


Of Magic and Moonlight

by Witch_of_Hot_Cocoa



Category: Alpha and Omega - Patricia Briggs, Mercy Thompson Series - Patricia Briggs
Genre: Arthurian legend - Freeform, F/M, Historical References, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, M/M, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-11 03:13:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7873945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Witch_of_Hot_Cocoa/pseuds/Witch_of_Hot_Cocoa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morgana doesn't know what to expect when she's thrown into the world of werewolves. She certainly doesn't expect to catch the eye of the most powerful, dominant, and downright dangerous werewolf in the world; much less for him to catch HER eye. (Or become his mate!) Things go from already very weird and downright crazy to worse when the world of King Arthur wakes up with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

Morgana Roswell Evetts had a lot things to despise in this world, but her step-father was _certainly_  making his way to the very top of the list.

The Alpha of the New Orleans pack, a mere hour away from her home, he claimed her mother was his mate, and she would soon be Changed. When her two youngest were old enough to be sent away to safety, without misunderstanding, it would be the end. He had no qualms taking away a mother from a girl who'd known no one else, and from two young children who'd made their lives around her entire existence.

Actually, he had managed to convince Morgan's mother to send her to his sister to _'learn more about werewolves so she would survive in this world'_ , to quote. His sister, Jodie, lived in Aspen Creek, a middle-of-nowhere town in the middle-of-nowhere state of Montana. Apparently, some big-shot in the werewolf world lived there, another Alpha who seemed to outrank her step-father. Permission for Morgan to stay in Aspen Creek for six months was granted, and Morgan was shoved onto the first plane available.

(Oddly it coincided with her youngest brother's birthday, something she assumed meant that was the deadline.)

Morgan was concerned that her step-father would take the opportunity to convince her mother to take the Change while she was away; her dear mother Diane was a love-sick puppy at the moment, and would listen to anything her beloved Derek said. And while Morgan still managed to be an adequate voice of reason, being halfway across the country left the situation hanging dangerously by a thread.

She leaned on the armrest of her seat, gazing out the window of the plane as it began to land. Jodie would be greeting her at the airport, then they would make the remaining few hour drive to the little town. Morgan was loathing every second of this. Four months; four whole months in a town filled with werewolves in the middle of nowhere, where only her family knew where she was. It might as well have been a death sentence.

The thought of death made her seek comfort in the sight of the rapidly approaching tarmac. It reminded her that she was alive, that she was a living, breathing person, and that she would have a long life ahead of her before the day death came knocking at her door. Unless the werewolves decide to eat her, that is.

When the plane landed and Morgan gathered her carry-on bags, she ventured into the airport (unsurprisingly, it was far less busy than the international airport she traveled from) and began her search for Jodie. She tried to memorize the picture Derek had shown her, but she still feared she wouldn't be able to find the were-woman. _'Maybe I should just call-'_

"Morgan." A hand clamped on her shoulder. She spun around, meeting the hard, ageless face of the woman from the photograph. It seemed that Jodie found her. "Is this all your luggage?" She asked. Morgan shook her head. "I've got a suitcase in checkout." She said, adjusting her duffel bag on her shoulder. Jodie nodded, taking the other bag from her hand. "Come on. We've got a long drive ahead of us." She stated, before starting ahead at a firm and rapid pace. Morgan had to hurry to keep up.

They fetched her bag from check out, went out to Jodie's car, and not ten minutes later they were on the road. The silence in the car was heavy and thick, but Morgan would not bring herself to break it. She wasn't sure what Jodie thought of her (although she was quite certain Derek had Jodie wrapped enough around her finger that the woman was going to make her life _hell)_ and she wasn't about to start an awkward conversation with her least favorite person's sister. So she took to watching the passing forest.

"Morgan."

Jodie, it seemed, had other things in mind. Morgan glanced at her. The woman was focused on the road, but she was leaning back, casually propped against the door. "There are a few rules that must be established for the duration of your stay in town."

"Such as?"

"First and foremost, the Marrok is the Alpha here. It is somewhat different from how things worked in my brother's pack." Jodie began. "He is the absolute authority here in North America. For all packs. You are going to respect whatever he says, whenever he says, and keep your tongue curbed. No swearing, no lying, and no leaving things out when giving information. He hates lies; even lies of omission."

"Oddly specific but OK."

"Secondly, sometimes things get a little...rough, in town. If you are not with me, or with anyone approved, you are going to stay inside. We can't have you getting into pack business, seeing as you are just a guest, and not pack." Jodie said firmly. Morgan nodded, sinking into the seat. "Wouldn't want to get involved anyways."

"And finally," Jodie looked over at her with a look of annoyance, "Derek has told me about your little tendency to wander."

"I wander?" Morgan couldn't help but snort. "It's hardly wandering. I sleep walk. And I can't control when it happens or what I do."

"He mentioned you have something with you to reassure you'll be contained at night."

"You mean the chain I lock on my door? Yeah. Seeing I don't jump when I sleep - yet - I've figured out a way to deadlock my bedroom door and hold it with a padlock. I keep the at the top of the door frame." Morgan popped an uncomfortable kink in her neck. "But, in case you do find me wandering, the best thing to do is wake me up."

"I thought you weren't supposed to wake sleepwalkers."

"I'm not like other sleepwalkers." Morgan said plainly. "Just splash me with some cold water. Mom and I have found that ice water does the trick."

Jodie looked suspicious, but nodded. "But you won't let it come to that, will you?" Morgan forced herself not to roll her eyes. "No, ma'am."

 

 

The town was nice and small, and rather homely. She watched a motel pass by, a gas station, and caught a glimpse of a church nested in the trees. There were houses everywhere and everybody seemed to have nice cars, to her surprise. She saw more than a few people, strolling through the town. They all watched as Jodie's little green truck passed by. Morgan felt shivers run up her spine.

When they made it to the house, Morgan was more than a little terrified to see there was a small cluster of women that watched like hawks from the yard across the street as she pulled her luggage from the truck. Jodie ignored them, opening the door (it wasn't locked) and gesturing for Morgan to follow her in. Morgan lugged in her bags through the door and into the foyer. Jodie took the larger of the suitcases, gesturing to the stairs.

"Come on. Third room on the left." Jodie guided her to the mentioned bedroom, a plain, white walled room with a bed drapes in blue sheets and a single desk against the wall by the window. Jodie placed the bag on the bed and sweeping an arm in a wide gesture. "This will be your room while you're here. Feel free to use the kitchen when you need to. Bathroom is down the hall, the first door to the right, directly by the stairs."

"Thanks."

"I've got to go talk with the pack Second. It shouldn't take more than an hour or so, but just in case," Jodie gestured to the cell phone sticking out of her jeans, "you already have my number, right?"

"Yeah." Morgan unzipped her suitcase. "I'll get settled. Uh, thanks." Jodie nodded, and left. Morgan moved to the window, peering out over the driveway. She didn't miss Jodie's hard glare as the woman got back in her truck and drove off. The cluster of women remained, staring up at the house, chatting feverishly amongst themselves. Morgan sighed heavily. _'This is going to be hell.'_

* * *

 Although it wasn't quite hell, she wasn't that far off. Almost the entire first week had passed and she had yet to be allowed outside. Morgan knew it was for her own safety, as well as the pack's, but she was getting restless. Jodie's little lessons on what Morgan affectionately called _"How Not To Die When Living With Werewolves 101"_ were getting boring and dull. She needed to meet someone new. She needed to be let outside.

"It's Sunday." Jodie announced at breakfast. "We're going to church."

Morgan almost got up and hugged Jodie; finally, they were going somewhere! And it was to the church!

Wait, church?

"Uh, like for mass?" She asked, prodding her eggs. "The whole Sunday morning prayer thing?"

"Yes. Everyone in this town goes to church. Every Sunday." The way Jodie said it gave Morgan the impression she didn't have much of a choice. "Ah, that's right. You're Pagan."

"That's not going to be an issue, is it?" Morgan pushed away her plate with a frown. "I mean, I'm not a witch or anything. I just follow the religion."

"Bran has already said you are welcome here as long as you don't cause any trouble. You come, you're respectful, and there shouldn't be any problems. Alright? Now, go shower and get dressed. Wear something nice." Jodie took her plate and dumped the remaining (she'd barely nibbled on the toast) food on her own.

"Yeah, alright." Morgan retreated quickly to her room, taking a fast shower and rummaging through her clothes. 'What the heck am I supposed to wear to a church?'

By the time Jodie came upstairs to retrieve her, she'd settled on a nice, casual navy dress and braided her hair over her shoulder. Jodie gave her a moderate nod of approval, Morgan grabbed a pair of flats, and they loaded into the truck. "Remember, don't challenge anyone. Don't tuck your chin in, either. It will-"

"-set off someone because they'll think I'm challenging them." Morgan watched the house shrink in the rear view mirror. "I remember."

"Good." And Jodie said nothing more, leaving Morgan to sit and simmer under the heat of her own nerves. The first time she comes into the pack's full presence, and it's in a church of all places. As if she wasn't freaked out enough, now she has to deal with the droning voice of a pastor in the house of God, rasping on about righteousness and all that. It's bad enough how edge she gets in church alone...

 _'Something's probably going to happen that'll make me look like a total fucking idiot...'_ She leaned her head on the glass, closing her eyes. _'And in front of the werewolf pack of all werewolf packs. Fucking luck...'_

"Morgan?" Jodie was standing outside the truck now; they were already there? Behind her, through the open door, people were passing by and glancing in, peering at her with curious glances. "Are you going to get out of the truck?" Jodie asked.

Morgan's cheeks were hot. "Right." She stumbled out of the truck and hurried to follow Jodie's long strides. She could feel the eyes following her all the way through the doors of the homely looking church. When they were inside, Morgan let her eyes sweep once over the crowd that was already seated.

In the very front, there were only a few people. Jodie had mentioned in passing that the Marrok and his family always took to the front. As she slid into a rear seat beside Jodie, Morgan found herself wondering which one on that first pew was Bran Cornick. There were only four men up there, and even as a human in the very back, Morgan could feel a presence around all of them. Perhaps it was the tallest one, a smiling man with brown hair.

One turned his head, meeting her eyes with a curious glance. He couldn't be much older than her, with sandy blond hair and pale skin. But when his hazel eyes met hers, and a flash of gold flickered across them, Morgan not only felt fire in her bones, but was suddenly very aware of how short in stature she was. He smiled; her eyes went to the floor and stayed there, face feeling hot. Her body burned, much to her embarrassment.

_'Holy shit.'_

She tried to ignore the sudden looks everyone was giving her. Something in her tingled and something else in her burned like a furnace. Her stomach churned restlessly.

_'I should have eaten more at breakfast.'_

* * *

In the front of the church, Bran found himself momentarily frozen in shock. The whole pack felt it, just as he had. All eyes were on Jodie's niece and she seemed terrified by it. No one moved, no one spoke; the only sounds were heartbeats and breathing.

Mercy, sitting between her Adam and Bran, looked back at the girl who captured everyone else's gaze. The coyote had not felt the magic that had just slivered its way into the being of the Marrok and his wolves; Adam, silent and staring, had felt it. "That's the New Orleans Alpha's step-daughter, right?" She inquired casually. "She's older than I thought she would be."

"Da?" Charles's voice was light, but enough to draw Bran to his senses. Bran turned his head forward; following their Marrok, the rest of the pack averted the eyes, instead settling on their Alpha with shocked or curious expressions. He didn't say anything; no one did.

When the Reverend began, it was a tad awkward. Not that he was to fault; Bran sat still as a statue, eyes blazing a powerful gold. The pack was jittery all through service. When it was finally - finally - ended, no one moved. Bran stood and made his way to Jodie and the guest - his new mate - and smiled. "Jodie," he didn't miss the way the girl's hands clenched at his approach, "I need a word."

Jodie handed her car keys to the girl. "Wait in the truck." She said, before standing and following Bran out.

* * *

The rest of the townsfolk took their cue, filing out. Morgan made a beeline for the truck, clutching the keys so tight her knuckles were white. She didn't run, but heavens did she want to. She walked at a leisurely agonizing pace and got into the truck as calmly as she could, ignoring the way the stares burned holes in her back or how there were people whispering her name across the lot.

The glass windows provided a comforting barrier. She leaned back into the seat, dragging in a deep breath.

Jodie appeared several moments later. Not a word is said until they reach Jodie's house, in which her only words frightened Morgan. "The Marrok has invited you to the pack's barbecue later today."

"Invited me to what now?" Morgan spun on her heel, eyes wide. "He wants me to come to a werewolf cook-out?"

"He does." Jodie didn't look pleased with the notion. "I know you've been a little stir-crazy, since you've been kept in the house since your arrival. This should be a good way to ease you into the pack."

"Yeah, let's just dive headfirst into the meat grinder." Morgan threw her hands up. "I could barely keep it together in a _church_. How am I supposed to keep my cool at...at a party?!"

Jodie said nothing. "I've never even been to a big barbecue." Morgan continued, grabbing her hair and whisking herself inside. "Oh my god, if there's hotdogs there I'll puke my guts out and that'll be just so attractive. At least I might look less appetizing then."

"The Marrok has has invited you into his town." Jodie said abruptly. "He has invited to into his home. You are a stranger in the midst of his pack, his family. You are in no danger here, nor will you ever be." She spoke firmly, but there was something bitter in her tone.

Morgan dropped her hands. "I…"

"You can't refuse an invitation from Bran." Jodie continued. "But he understands that you are afraid, and doesn't want you walking into a luncheon full of werewolves stinking of fear like you do now."

"You can smell fear?" Morgan's nose wrinkled.

"Get a grip." Jodie said at last. "You won't be walking into an oven to be roasted. He wouldn't do that to you."

Something washed through Morgan; she didn't miss the strange implication there, and it set a cold but jittery calm in her. "I'm sorry." She said, brushing the skirt of her dress. "I panicked."

"I know. You're human, it's understandable." Jodie gestured to the stairs. "It doesn't start for another hour. Go get dressed in something casual and comfortable and call your mother."

"Call momma?"

"She can calm you down better. Give you a confidence boost." Jodie shooed her. "Go on."

Morgan clamored up the stairs and found her cellphone on the nightstand. As she called up her mother and felt a wave of relief at the sound of her voice, she wondered if her first impression of Jodie being Derek's puppet was true at all.


	2. Chapter 2

Bran heard Jodie’s truck pull up in front of the house from his study.

Something like unease stirred in him. “What do you plan to do about the girl?” Charles stood in the doorway, Samuel leaning on the wall by the window. Bran didn’t answer at first, just stared at the unlit fireplace in thought. When he met the eyes of the young girl from Louisiana in the church today, an old magic settled in his bones. He would never understand how it happened, but his wolf had looked upon the girl and decided she was his mate.

Bran would never admit it out loud, but his control has been precariously slipping since Leah’s death last year. His personal feelings for the woman aside, she had been his mate, and it was his bond with her that kept his beast caged. Her sudden death shook him with such ferocity that, had it not been for Charles’s Anna, his sons feared that their father’s end would come at last.

But today, for the first time since he lost Leah, he felt a calm he has not felt in what feels like forever. The bond was weak and meager, but there was no mistaking it. It reminded him of the abruptness of Charles and Annas’ meeting, how Charles’s wolf had chosen Anna within mere moments of meeting her. Only in this situation, he had not a fragile and abused Omega to coax into comfort, but a frail human who knew nothing of the world of werewolves and supernatural beings and resented her presence in his town.

“It won't be easy.” He said at last. “She looked like a frightened rabbit.”

“Jodie’s kept her in the house since she arrived.” Charles noted. “Other than her brief interactions with the New Orleans pack she has little experience with wolves. If she stays, it will be hard on her.”

Bran makes an absent _hm_ and leans back. Unfortunately for this poor girl, having her leave was not an option.

“She’s here for six months. That should be plenty of time to court her properly.” Samuel grinned. “The more you ease her into it the more likely she is to be comfortable with staying.”

His sons were eager to see him whole again. For all their displeasures with him, they loved their father dearly, and they’d be damned to see him die. Not like this. It both amused Bran and filled him with a sense of pride to know his sons loved him so. He also thought they were foolish to fret over an old man.

“How about,” Anna peeked over head over Charles’s shoulder, smiling, “you grumpy old men come out and socialize. Maybe you should _introduce_ yourself to the girl before you start plotting.”

“ _Plotting._ ” Very few in his family would ever be permitted to tease the Marrok like that, and Anna was one of those rare exceptions. Bran stood and smiled. “Don’t you worry, Anna. Your coleslaw won’t go to waste.”

“You’re making everyone nervous.” She scolded lightly. “Stop being grumpy and come be with your pack.” She kissed Charles on the cheek and whisked herself back out into the yard.

“That Omega of yours is something else, bossing around the Marrok.” Samuel teased, brushing past his brother on his way out. Charles said nothing; he glanced at his father and nodded once, following them out. Bran looked once more at the unlit fireplace.

The girl was his mate. And whether either of them liked it or not, she was the only chance this pack had. 

* * *

 There were dozens of cars parked along the road outside the Marrok’s house, a few people scattered here and there. “Only pack members and their immediate families usually come to these. Not everyone does, as we have about seventy wolves.” Jodie explained along the drive. Morgan didn't respond; her fingers fiddled nervously the short ride.

Jodie let Morgan carry in the cookies she'd baked to ease her fidgeting and led her inside. Almost immediately they were greeted by a smiling woman with whiskey colored curls and freckles dusting her cheeks. “I'm Anna.” She took the pan of cookies from Morgan before she even realized what was going on. “Everyone's out back. Too cramped in the house.”

“Thank you, Anna.” Jodie smiled at Anna - Morgan almost gaped, she’d never seen Jodie smile like that before - and ushered Morgan outside.

There weren't as many people as there were in the church, so Morgan didn't feel the crushing anxiety as intense. But then she spotted the young looking blond from the front pews, standing by one of several grills, and she felt her stomach hit the floor.

Several people glanced at her. Jodie nudged her.

Morgan took a deep breath, put on her mother’s southern smile, and ignored the blond man. Jodie handed her a cup with punch in it and pushed her towards a set of card tables with folding chairs thrown haphazardly around them. “How about you sit and relax and chat with someone?” She said. Morgan turned to offer a small protest - she _really_ would rather just follow Jodie around like a lost puppy - but Jodie was already halfway across the yard, sinking into a small gathering of men and women by the back door. They laughed and handed her a beer.

Morgan swallowed. _‘And here I thought she was starting to seem decent.’_ Reluctantly, Morgan found the most isolated empty chair she could and tried to seem as casual and calm as she could.

Some eyes drifted towards her here and there, but thankfully, everyone seemed to ignore her. There was a crowd of six or seven children kicking around a battered soccer ball near the treeline. She briefly considered trying to play with them; she always felt comfortable doing sports (hence her mother insisting she do four). But she decided against it; it seemed like a cop-out, and someone was bound to be uncomfortable with basically a stranger playing with their kid.

Across from her at another table, a girl threw her hands up with a frustrated cry. “This is stupid!” She snapped at her books.

Morgan peered at the scattered papers on the table, frowning. “Are you doing homework at a barbecue-cookout-thing?” She called.

The girl, with unabashed bright purple hair of all things, looked up. “ _Barbecue-cookout-thing?_ ” She had a smile on her face. She was definitely Morgan’s age, at least a few years younger if she had homework. Or maybe in college. Morgan held her hands up defensively. “Hey, I'm not the one doing homework.”

The girl laughed lightly. “Yeah, I'll give you that.” She returned to her papers, but Morgan was determined to stimulate the conversation. “So what's the subject?”

The girl made a face. “Literature.”

“What?” Morgan looked abashed. “And you're having a hard time? Pft,” she stood, claiming the seat across from her new (hopeful) friend, “what's got you stuck?”

“I need to name all the Knights of the Round table, but there's an extra line and I can't find the answer in my book at all.”

Morgan stifled a snort. “Out of all the lore to be stumped on, you lose it on King Arthur?”

“Well, you tell me who's missing then, if it's so easy.” She shoved her paper towards Morgan.

Morgan skimmed the names and smiled. “You're missing King Arthur.”

“But he's not a knight.” The girl protested. “The Knights served him. How could he be his own knight?”

“Your questions calling for who was seated at the round table. Now, technically, this thing is missing a _lot_ of names. There were over a hundred total,” Morgan paused, as if searching for the right words, “at least according to the old stuff. But King Arthur _always_ sat at the table. That's why it's such a big deal; the Knights sat equal with their king.”

“Stupid trick question…” In loopy script, the girl wrote _King Arthur_ on the last line. “Don't suppose you can help with the rest, miss…”

“Just Morgan. Morgan Evetts.” Morgan introduced. “Gladly.”

The girl beamed. “I'm Jesse Hauptman.”

Morgan helped Jesse finish the rest of her assignment, pointing out hints in the text and outright explaining things that weren't in it at all. It didn't take long to finish with Morgan's help.

Jesse stretched her arms over her head. “Finally!” She yawned. “Freedom.”

“I forgot how annoying homework was. Even the easy assignments.” Morgan frowned.

Jesse snorted. “You're not that much older than me.”

“You're what eighteen?” Morgan jerked a thumb at herself. “I turn twenty-one in December, you whippersnapper. You probably never even had to use a flip phone.”

“That's only, like, two and a half years, at most.” Jesse teased. “Don't act like you're all old and decrepit.”

Before Morgan could come up with a response (she really liked this girl she was spunky) there was a cry from the children and the ball connected with the hand of tall, broad man with honestly beautiful features and an honestly frightening presence. Morgan didn't know what it was, but this man made her spine run with chills.

“Careful children.” He teased; suddenly some of the noise dropped and half the crowd was staring and him. “You almost hit our guests. Would be a shame to harm such lovely little ladies.”

There were mumbled apologies from the children. The man tossed the ball in his hand.

“Play nice, Asil.” From across the yard, Morgan almost made the mistake of meeting the blond man’s eyes again.

“Of course, of course.”

For the life of her, Morgan would never understand what possessed her to stand and put herself directly in front of Asil. She plucked the ball from his hands with gentle fingers. “Thank you.” She said tentatively, dropping the ball to the ground; then she popped it up with her toes and punted it towards the crude goal the children had made. It sailed through and bounced to a stop.

She grinned with all her teeth. “But the lovely little ladies would have been able to catch the ball on their own.”

She didn't meet his eyes, just saw his smile as she turned and offered to play with the awed children. Jesse excitedly joined in, passing Asil with a smile and a nod. Conversations returned to normal; Asil turned and made his way towards the grills.

* * *

Bran watched Morgan and Adam’s daughter Jesse play with the children. Asil plucked a hot dog from the grill and ate it hot. “I like her. She's got fire in her.” He said, not looking at Bran deliberately. Mercy frowned, but kept her comment to herself. She sat next to Anna at the card table set next to the grills, the wolves clustered around them.

“You’re going to introduce yourself to her, right?” Anna pressed, handing a plate of burgers to another pack member. Bran waved a casual hand. “Don’t worry about it, Anna.” He sounded relaxed. “I’ll _handle_ it.”

“I don’t doubt you will.” Anna sounded suspicious, but she was smiling. “But if I leave the big bad scary Marrok to handle this all by himself he’ll scare the poor girl.” She said this to Charles and Samuel, who shrugged.

Bran watched Morgan let one of the kids steal the ball from her, making a show of being defeated. Another child called her out for faking and she laughed; he decided he liked the sound of her laughter, a reaction he wasn’t quite expecting to have so suddenly. It almost threw him off; almost.

He glanced and saw that of the thirty or so members of the pack that were present, several were watching Morgan with cautious expressions. So far, the pack had mixed reactions to the unofficial news of the human being his ‘mate’. Almost everybody knew already, and those who didn’t would know before the day was up. Even a few of his Alphas from other packs knew, like Adam, who had returned to the Tri-Cities to handle trouble in his pack.

He’d left his wife Mercy and daughter Jesse here in Aspen Creek, in the safety of Bran’s house, as a precaution due to the intimate nature of the trouble. He suspected that it was also because Mercy had somewhat of a balming presence on Bran when she was safe and near; not quite as calming as Anna, but it helped having Mercy’s smart mouth just down the hall.

Bran cleared his throat, and all eyes that had been on Morgan averted themselves. He knew there would be difficulties amongst some members, although not as many difficulties as Adam had with bringing Mercy into his pack.  He watched Morgan stretch a leg high and send the ball sailing over the children’s heads into their goal. They were fascinated, practically screaming as they begged her to do it again. She obliged, which in turn led to one of the girls challenging Morgan to see who was more flexible by performing her best back bend. Morgan did a back tuck in response.

“Oh, you have your work cut out for with that one.” Samuel teased.

Bran made a grumble of acknowledge.

* * *

Morgan made the mistake of revealing that she did gymnastics to the children and Jesse, and that prompted a string of showing off for them. She was thankful that she wore comfortable jeans and a loose blouse, because anything else would have been a chafing nightmare. She’d had hoped that her new friend Jesse would have been some sort savior against the monstrous children, but Jesse was just as bad the kids and prodded at her to do more.

She thought she was going to puke at the notion of doing gymnastics in front of werewolves. They were scrutinizing her; she didn’t miss it. But she ignored them and performed for the children because one of the girls looked like her little sister. That didn’t mean, of course, that she could do twenty back tucks one after the other.

She flopped on the ground after her fifth handspring, pretending to be exhausted. “No more, no more!” She touched her wrist to her forehead like a southern lady swooning on her porch. “I can’t take any more! Spare me!”

“Boo!” Jesse teased. “She’s a quitter! Get her!”

The children tackled Morgan, dog piling on her. It amused some of the wolves; from what Jodie had told her, most of the wolves just ignored children, but a few adored them. Morgan wondered – as she lifted a child with her legs and Jesse held her hands – if Bran Cornick was fond of children, or if he was watching her.

She paused. Why did wonder that?

“Kids, come eat!” She recognized the smiling brown haired man from the front pews. The kids cheered  and abandoned Morgan and Jesse in the grass. Morgan helped Jesse up. “Want to eat or just watch everyone else eat?”

Jesse snorted. “Where are you from anyways? You’re that guest I heard about.” Someone handed them both paper plates and food began to appear on them. “I’m from Louisiana. My mom’s marrying the New Orleans Alpha so I got sent here for a crash course in living with werewolves.” She said it so plainly, but even saying it out loud didn’t settle the unease that rose at the thought of Derek and her mother. She swallowed it. “What about you?”

“My dad’s the Tri-Cities Alpha. Mercy, the lady over there,” Jesse pointed to a woman with tanned skin and braids, someone Morgan had glimpsed at in the front pews at the church “is my step-mom. She grew up here, so we’re family-visiting. I think.”

“You ladies want burgers or hot dogs or bratwurst?” The smiling man with brown hair manning the grill was certainly handsome in his own way, even though Morgan kept her eyes glued to the grill. “Burger, please.” She said, Jesse taking two hot dogs. She didn’t realize putting a cheeseburger on a plate could look graceful, but the man somehow accomplished it. “I’m Samuel, by the way.” He introduced, extending his hand towards Morgan; she carefully extended her own. His hand was calloused, but warm and soft and comforting; healing hands, she thought absently. “Hope the kids didn’t give you too much trouble. They can be a little hectic.”

“Morgan.” She smiled. “They were fine. I have two siblings a lot younger than me, so I’m used to hectic.”

“That’s good.” He grinned with all his teeth . He looked prepared to say more, but he just smiled and Jesse tugged her along. She spotted the blond young man again, watching Samuel carefully and yet seeming so relaxed.

Jesse sat them at a card table with Mercy and Anna; Morgan felt far more relaxed now that she had a friend, so sitting dab smack in the middle of the group next to Jesse didn't bother her.

(As much.)

“Morgan, this is my step-mom Mercedes, and this is Anna Cornick.” Jesse introduced, taking on the role as middle man “And that's Charles Cornick,” the serious looking Native American man stood behind Anna, merely nodding, “you've met Samuel Cornick and Asil,” both men waved “that's Sage, she's really nice, I think you'll like he.” The tall and slender woman in question wagged her fingers from beside Samuel, looking all the part of a supermodel with the glitter dusted across her cheeks; she looped arms with Asil and they drifted across the yard with heaps of food on their plates. “And that's the Marrok, Bran Cornick. He’s not actually scary unless you try playing chess with him, then he gets downright dirty.”

“You wound me, Jesse.” Out of all the people Morgan expected to be the Marrok, the handsome blond who looked the same age as her was not who she expected. Her stomach crawled up her throat and dived back down into her gut like some sort of thrill seeker.

As if he enjoyed this reaction or he was oblivious to it, Bran snagged a folding chair from nearby and dragged it over to sit directly between Mercy and Morgan. Mercy gave him a strange look, but picked at her burger without a comment. Everything in Morgan screamed to scoot closer to Jesse, to give herself space; his shoulder was inches from hers. But Jodie had told her werewolves love to chase and she had a feeling scooting away would count as running. So while in her head she screamed, she put on a smile and tried to seem less terrified.

“It's nice to meet you all. I'm Morgana. You should probably just call me Morgan though. Morgana leaves a bad taste in some people’s mouths when they think about it being the name of the evil sorceress from Camelot and all that.” She was rambling. She did that when she was nervous, and Bran Cornick made her doubly nervous.

“I think it's a lovely name.” Anna said with a smile, and Morgan’s nerves unraveled a bit. Mercy picked back up on a conversation about the werewolf pack back in the Tri-Cities,  and Morgan made herself content with listening. Jesse’s banter with Mercy helped a lot with the nerves; it reminded Morgan of her mother and herself.

The thought of her mother made her hand pause over her plate. Diane had been excited to hear from Morgan earlier. It had only been a week, but Morgan already missed her mother and siblings dearly. She'd always been with her mom. _Always._

Her father had completely cut all ties with Morgan and her mother when she was three. She and her mother loved alone for about two years before she married and nice man from Florida, the father of Morgan’s little sister and brother. He'd done his best to be her father, and he'd honestly succeeded, but when Diane and divorced him four years ago, he too cut ties with Morgan, not even talking to her before he moved out, much less asking for any sort of parental rights over her. The pattern had given Morgan a fierce love for her mother.

One could say Morgan was a little clingy. She used to joke about the separation anxiety after going through some counseling. Morgan and her mother were two peas in a pod, best friends as well as parent and child. They'd been so happy, never had an argument in their life until Derek appeared.

Morgan pinched her burger bun. Derek left a bitter taste on her tongue. It wasn't that she just didn't like any boyfriend her mother had; _this_ boyfriend swooped in and was trying to _take_ her mother. Apparently, after somehow convincing Diane that his wolf had chosen her to be his mate, he'd informed her that Morgan wouldn't be allowed to live with them after she took the Change. And Diane had _agreed_. They haven't told Morgan yet, but one of Derek’s female pack members whom Morgan was ninety percent sure was jealous of Diane had told her. So yeah, Morgan had issues with Derek.

It didn't help that something about him felt so _wrong_ when he was around.

“Earth to Morgan.” Jesse snapped her fingers in front of Morgan's face, making her jump in her seat. “Anna asked you about yourself.”

Morgan's face turned bright red; they were all looking at her, even Bran. “Sorry, I was thinking.” She said, wishing she could sink into the ground. “Um, what did you want to know?”

“Do you do sports?” Mercy inquired. “That was some impressive flexing with the kids.”

“Yeah, I do four sports.” Morgan’s hands flitted nervously down her braid. “Gymnastics, volleyball, soccer, and I don't swim as intensely as I play the others, but I help the local teams train.”

“That must be time consuming.” Anna noted.

“Sort of. Gymnastics is the one with practice every other day, but the others only meet once a week. I still have time to go to night classes.”

“What are you going to school for?” It was Bran who spoke, and his voice sent strange chills up her spine. “At the moment, just a General AA. I want to get a degree in Mythological studies. I heard Pacifica Grad has a great doctoral program, but California’s far from home.” absently, she stabbed at coleslaw on her plate.

“You want to major in mythology?” Mercy seemed intrigued. “Well, I wonder how all this business with Fae and Werewolves is going to affect that.”

“Hopefully not too much.” Morgan joked. “I'm less interested in stuff like Fae folklore and, uh, werewolf stuff, and more in the really ancient stuff, like stories about the massive ancient flood, or about old gods and how their people interacted with them.”

“You seemed to know a lot about King Arthur stuff.” Jesse said.

“King Arthur's less mythology, more history.” Morgan kept her eyes on her plate. “I mean, the Fae are real and all, so some version of King Arthur must be real. I couldn't tell you which for the life of me, but it's either one of them or a little truth salted all over.”

“To be honest,” Mercy spoke like a wisened old woman, “with the Fae, it's best to not know.”

Morgan nodded, and the subject drifted to Mercy’s apparent ‘shenanigans’ with the Fae back home. Morgan paid attention this time, keeping up with the teasing.

Bran stretched his arms across the backs of Mercy and Morgans’ chairs and made a joke about wrapping a Porsche around a tree, and Morgan found herself wondering why she wanted to lean back against his arm, when he made her so damn nervous.

* * *

 

The moment Jesse introduced him, Morgan smelled strongly of fear and the unease made him...was upset the word? Perhaps annoyed.

So he pulled up a chair and sat directly next to her. His sons masked their amusement, and Anna looked almost smug. Mercy didn't know what was going on yet, and would probably demand answers later. But he'd address it with her when she confronted him.

Under her fear, Morgan’s scent was strange and intoxicating all in one. The smell of Louisiana swamps clung to her faintly, but it was the mixture of ashes and wine with a hint of wildflowers that struck so oddly with him. Humans always had a variety of their own scents, but he wasn't expecting such a strange concoction from her.

Then again, New Orleans, even it's very beginning, had always been a nest of the strangest scents.

He watched her without detracting any attention from Mercy. She seemed to be half listening, an absent look on her face as her thoughts drifted.

Bran found himself suddenly feeling bitter, which was odd, because it wasn't his emotion to feel. Bitterness sprung from someone new trying to forcibly cut apart his family...oh.

These were Morgana’s emotions.

Bran’s fingers drummed the table once. Mate bonds were something he knew very much about and yet something very little about at the same time. They were fickle. A bond fitted itself to suite the pair it connected. Some bonds allowed for very intimate sharing of thoughts and memories and sensations. But that was usually only between wolves. (Or a wolf and a coyote in Mercy’s case.) Empathy was very rare; one the few he'd ever heard of was when Asil spoke of his deceased omega mate. Binds with humans usually were not as potent in terms of magical sharing, and although it was a singular emotion, Morgan’s bitterness came through very strongly, setting in him like it was his emotion.

Anna asked Morgan about herself; Morgan was lost in thought, a distant look on her face. Jesse snapped her fingers, catching her attention. Morgan blushed; Bran found himself smiling in amusement. When she spoke of her sports activities and mentioned school, he asked about her major.

She wanted to study mythology, which was intriguing. Most children today dreamed of studying the stars and the life on the lands and seas, or taking up law or business. Mythology, especially in their world of wolves and Fae and vampires and demons, was a strange subject.

But she didn't really know that world. Yet. It was unfortunate how far she would be dragged into it.

He teased Mercy about his totaled Porsche and draped his arm across Morgan’s chair before realizing it; a reflexive act, he supposed. He did that often when Mercy or Anna sat by him. She paused when he did, but didn't seemed bothered by the act and continued to eat. Good, he told himself. It was the first step towards her becoming comfortable with him. The quicker, the better.

* * *

 When evening came and the pack began to return to their homes, several members remained to help clean up, as per their “turn”. Jodie was one of those. While Jodie helped Samuel and Bran with the grills, Morgan had been assigned to collecting chairs with Jesse and helping Collin store them away. She didn't seem bother by the job, instead chatting amicably with Jesse and occasionally Collin, who seemed inclined to like her.

“Ok, what's the deal?” Mercy finally said, dropping the card table she'd been collapsing. “Something's up with the girl, and you're all leaving me out of this loop. Even Adam knows.” She demanded answers. Samuel muttered under his breath, “uh-oh” and made a hasty (dramatic and teasing) retreat. Charles looked at his father before helping his mate tow dishes inside.

“I'll explain later tonight, Mercedes.” Bran promised. She narrowed her eyes, but it seemed to satisfy her as she returned her attention to the table.

“Is there anything else you'd like me to help with?” Jodie asked him, brushing charcoal off her hands. Bran glanced over to the girls; they'd just finished all the chairs, and seemed to be teasing Collin about something. “No, thank you, Jodie. You can take Morgan home for the night.” He said. “I will be stopping by in the next few days. I'll call ahead.”

“Alright.” Jodie didn't look all pleased at the prospect, but nodded and called Morgan over.

She waved goodbye to Jesse and Collin and jogged over. “Heading out?” She asked, smiling. Jodie nodded, and made for the door.

Morgan didn't follow immediately. She turned to Bran, smiling nervously with her eyes down. “I'd like to thank you. For inviting me.” She said, voice gentle. “It was really...nice, to actually meet some folks.”

“You're a guest,” Bran said, “and you're welcome anytime to leisurely events with the pack. Feel free to come by while Jesse is in town. It'd be a shame you two didn't become good friends.”

Her cheeks were flushed. “R-right. Thank you again, Bran.” She fiddled with a silver ring on her pinkie. “Goodnight.”

He took her hand and kissed her soft knuckles, smiling up at her. “Goodnight, Morgan.”

She squeaked, scarlet, and all but ran to catch up with Jodie. Asil and Samuel laughed loudly in her wake.


	3. Chapter 3

" _Wake up."_

_It is cold, oh so cold. She sees snow for miles and trees barren and burnt. She doesn't want to move. She wants to stay where she is and sleep._

_The voice prods at her. "Wake up, wake up. Something has changed." It urges. "Something is different this time around."_

_She squints and sees nothing new. The trees are always sad and dead and the snow is always white and frigid. What is there to be new?_

" _Look." The voice is different from the last. "See with not your eyes."_

_She does, and sees something black and rotting at their core. It does not belong. She cannot cleanse it as she is now; maybe, were she whole, should she remember._

" _The wolves can help. Marrok is the key." The voices blur with the wind. "If it festers too long, we die. We all die forever."_

_She doesn't want to die forever. If she dies forever, she would never see her wolf again. Bran would lose her._

_Her wolf stirs in the snow several yards away. His howls serenade the moon._

* * *

Morgan jolted awake.

She stood at her window, hands on the panels. Steam outlined her fingers in a foggy show of art, and with the moonlight filtering through it looked almost pretty

She cursed.

The deadbolt - although pasted on with wood glue instead of bolts like at home - was untouched, and she was still in her room, so she took it as a small victory.

She peeled her hands off the window and sat back on the bed. It was barely three in the morning, so she curled back up and closed her eyes. No more sleepwalking, she told herself. Just sleeping.

* * *

In the next few days, Morgan found herself far more comfortable than she had been at all last week. Maybe it was because of the barbecue, maybe it was because Jodie was suddenly being much nicer to her and less frigid. She wondered what brought on that change.

"While you were showering," Jodie dropped pancakes on her plate before she even fully made it into the kitchen "Jesse Hauptman called. She wants to know if you'd like to come with her and a few of the ladies to Missoula today."

"How far is Missoula?" She asked, glancing at the clock on the microwave. It was barely seven am; she hadn't been able to really go back to sleep last light.

"A few hours." Jodie said absently. "Jesse was instant you save her from Sage's shopping tyranny."

Sage's lovely face came to mind from the cookout, and Morgan wondered just how dramatic that statement really was. "Is it alright if I go?" She asked, suddenly remembering that Jodie was technically in charge of her.

"Would I be telling you if it wasn't?" Jodie smiled faintly. "Use the landline. Just redial the previous number."

Morgan hopped off her stool at the kitchen island and grabbed the phone from the wall. She redialed the number, looking over it once to familiarize herself, and pressed it to her ear as she sat back down.

It was answered on the second ring. "Something you need, Jodie?" Bran Cornick's cool voice tickled her ear, almost making her choke on nothing. Her face went red, remembering how he'd kissed her knuckles. Jodie seemed amused.

"Actually - it's Morgan. Jesse called earlier trying to get ahold of me?" She tried to not sound nervous. He chuckled. "Just a moment, Morgan." There was a click, and a minute later Jesse's voice spilled from the speaker. "Hey! You on for today?" She sounded for excited, like they'd been friends for a while and not having just met three days ago. "Sure. Should I come to where you guys are leaving from?" She glanced at Jodie, who nodded.

"That'd be great! Wear something cute or Sage will make you go home and change." Jesse said it so seriously Morgan felt a small bit of panic; what was Sage's definition of cute?

"Anna and Mercy are coming too. Can you be at Bran's house in thirty minutes? We're leaving a little while after."

"Yes." Morgan stabbed a pancake. "I'll see you then."

"Alright!" Jesse hung up, and Morgan groaned. "Being a girl is so hard!" She stuffed a few bites of pancakes into her mouth. "What kind of cute does Sage expect? Is she going to make me change if I go like urban cute? Hippie cute?" Morgan swallowed a mouthful of orange juice. "Is she a supermodel type?"

"If it's cute, Sage will approve." Jodie said, leaning on the granite counter. "You don't need to worry about the exact type of style."

"Good thing I already showered." Morgan destroyed the rest of her pancakes - she had practice, from fending off small children who wanted her food. "I should go try to find something to wear. If you find me choked by a pair of nylons, tell Jesse I died for her sake. And for fashion."

Jodie snorted. Morgan dumped her plate on the sink and all but ran up the stairs. She had to find an outfit and put on makeup - she'd not worn any since coming, and a girl's day out always meant makeup.

It took her twenty minutes to settle on an outfit in between applying makeup. When she finally pulled herself into a pair of shorts that had more fabric for her waist than her legs, and found a loose green blouse to hang off one shoulder, she stared at a pair of socks. She realized, after she'd grabbed the thigh highs, that they were going to be at Bran's house before they left. Meaning he'd _see_ her. And her legs. And maybe a little butt cheek too if she wasn't careful. Would he think poorly of her?

Then she remembered the way Derek had snidely called her a tramp when he'd seen those shorts and shoved on her socks with a pair of flat, shin high boots in a taste of bitter independence. She was twenty, damnit. What did she care what they thought of her?

She braided her bangs and pinned them behind her head, letting the rest of her hair fall free. Then finished with a dark purple lipstick because she could, and snatched her purse and trotted down the stairs.

Jodie looked at the socks first. "Sage will approve." She said, but there was an underlying tone that told Morgan that _she_ didn't approve. "You have everything you need? Phone? Wallet?"

"I even have a spare battery to keep it charged." Morgan smiled, smoothing her blouse. "I can take myself over. I know how to get to Br- the Marrok's house." Saying his name felt weird. It made her nervous. Jodie shook her head. "I can drive you. Much safer that way."

Morgan didn't object. "Thank you."

"Best get moving, then."

The ride over was quiet, but it wasn't as awkward as silence with Jodie was in the beginning. But the drive was short and when she jumped out and waved goodbye to Jodie, her nerves caught in her throat _just_ a little.

"Whoa!" Jesse had flung open the door and was grinning. She wore a striped tee shirt dress with strappy sandals, looking all the part of a colorful summer going girl and not the daughter of a werewolf Alpha. "That's cute. Why didn't I think of bringing my boots?" She ushered Morgan inside, and Morgan relaxed at her presence. "We're just waiting on Anna, so we can chill until then."

Mercy was on a recliner by the couch in the sitting room, wearing jeans and a tee shirt. Sage had just finished on making a comment about the grease stains in Mercy's jeans when the girls entered. "Oh, I approve darling." She purred, voice as thick as molasses with southern charm. She reminded Morgan of a beauty pageant queen that had visited her class in the eighth grade; fabulous, graceful, and absolutely a lady. "Come, come, sit while we wait for Anna." She patted the seat on the couch next to her. "Charlie has a habit of delaying her sometimes. He likes to keep her in his little man-cave."

Somehow, Morgan got the feeling Sage was the only person who called Anna's mate _Charlie._ Morgan sat and Jesse fetched her purse from the coffee table before sitting next to her. "Tell me, Morgan," Sage leaned towards her, lashes dusting her gold-brushed cheeks as she blinked her magnificent blue eyes, "what do you think of our little town so far?"

"I haven't seen too much of it," she answered honestly, "but I like it. Everybody seems so nice and _not_ crazy, which makes this place several miles above New Orleans in my book." She smiled and Sage laughed lightly. "I'm sure you'll find we are probably _much_ more polite than the city."

"One thing bothers me though." Morgan leaned back. "Does nobody seriously lock their doors here?"

Behind her, a man laughed with Sage and Mercy. Morgan was almost mortified to see Bran laughing in the doorway to a short hallway; behind him, she could what looked to be an office, or a study of sorts. She tried to pretend the sight of him laughing at _her_ didn't bother her.

"Tell me, Morgan," he said patiently, "would you rob a house you knew belonged to a werewolf?"

Her cheeks were red. It seemed all she did was blush or get frightened around Bran. "N-no," she stuttered, embarrassed, "ok, I get it, was a silly question."

"It was hardly silly." Bran took the seat next to Mercy, looking all the world at ease in his own house. He had a tear in is a jeans at one knee, and there were sharpie scribbles scattered over the denim, making him look younger than he already looked. "It's something we forget other people aren't used to."

"Don't worry," Mercy offered, "sometimes I find myself stopping and wondering the same thing."

The door popped open, and Morgan was relieved to see that Anna had arrived. She came in smiling and dressed as casually as Mercy. Sage scoffed. "You wound me," she said dramatically "at least the girls understand that a shopping trip is something meant to be dressed up for."

"Are you ready to go, Sage?" Anna asked, grinning.

Sage rose so gracefully Morgan almost caught herself staring. "Of course, darling. We were waiting on you."

The rest were quick to stand and made their way to the door. "Try not to cause too much trouble, ladies." Bran called after them. Morgan tried to pretend she wasn't blushing as she crawled into the Lexus after Jesse and almost sat on a stick.

"Mercy, your stick found you all the way out here." Jesse teased. Morgan frowned. The four foot stick was twisty and gray, with silver caps on both ends. Mercy put it on the floor of the car. "It's a magic walking stick that would grant my sheep twins." She explained. "It likes me so it follows me around."

"Oh." Morgan didn't think it would be smart to question further. Instead she wiggled in next to Jesse as Mercy slid in next to her, closing the door. Sage pulled on a pair of bedazzled sunglasses that Morgan was wasn't actually decorated with a bedazzler. "You can't imagine how long I've been pestering Anna for a girl's day. Now we have a whole posse!" She sounded excited as she pulled out of the driveway and started down the road.

Morgan smiled, and then suddenly, she was annoyed. It was strange; why was she so annoyed? It burned in her chest and made her sit back against the seat with a frown. She was excited, not annoyed. That wasn't eight.

Just as soon as it stirred, the annoyance vanished. Morgan felt chills run through her; that had been strange.

* * *

Bran was _thoroughly_ annoyed.

He sat back in the recliner when the girls left, frowning. When he'd come out of his study, he had been frozen for a whole minute. Only Mercy and Sage had caught sight of him, which was good, because his was staring at Morgan and her exposed olive toned skin with a hunger in his eyes that would have frightened her, most likely. Then she asked about the unlocked doors in town and he laughed at the sheer shock in her voice, snapping him out of it.

He didn't expect her to have such an affect on him so quickly. It'd been too long since he'd had a mate bond, since he'd had an expressed need for another living being. It had been his hope, at least, that he would have been able to control himself and his wolf until she was more comfortable with him and Werewolves in general. He didn't miss the tightness in her body whenever someone she knew was a werewolf was near, and he certainly didn't miss the way she smelled of fear whenever she knew he was around.

It annoyed him to no end, and it actually angered him too. His mate should never be uncomfortable or _afraid_ of him. Never. Leah, despite all she was and how much she knew he disliked her, had never _really_ been afraid of him unless it was necessary. She'd loved him.

A curiosity brushed him. He realized - a moment too late - that he had been so strongly irritated that the weak mate bond he shared with Morgan had transferred that emotion to her, and she didn't understand why she was feeling it. He was quick to smother the emotions that passed through the bond; he capped his end temporarily, so that he could (ironically) only receive her emotions, but she wouldn't feel his. Not until she was ready.

And she would have to be ready sooner than later. Time was not on their side.

* * *

The three hour drive went by quickly. They chatted about all manner of things, from Sage's latest adventures in teasing Asil to Mercy and her chaotic life of everything trying to kill her. It seemed there was no shortage of monsters that sought Mercy's blood.

"Wait," Morgan held a hand up "vampires are _real?_ They don't glitter do they?"

"No. They're terrifying." Mercy said, voice deadly serious. "And you should never want to meet one. Ever." Morgan told her word and the conversation drifted onto more pleasant topics.

The mall was nice and was built like the malls she'd seen in Florida. Sage led the charge inside, although how she moved so quickly in such high heels Morgan and Jesse both could never fathom. Their first stop was Dillard's. Morgan always liked the dresses they had during prom and homecoming, and they sold excellent sports bras.

"Oh, Anna-" Sage snatched a lovely red dress off the rack, with a very low neckline and a slit up the side of the already short skirt. "How much do you want to bet Charlie would _love_ you in this?"

Anna blushed. "Probably just as much as he'd like me in jeans. He doesn't really care much about fashion."

Sage scoffed, flinging the dress back in place. "We have to get you something to outline that daring figure of yours, Anna. And don't think you're going to get off easy either, Mercedes. I have Jesse with me to help with _your_ dastardly taste."

"I'm a mechanic, Sage." Mercy crossed her arms. "Anything nice I own either gets grease, oil, dirt, or blood on it. Or it gets ripped."

"I will have the two of you with something sexy by the end of this day or I am a failure as a woman." Sage declared. Jesse and Morgan giggled. That turned out to be a bad idea, because it drew Sage's claws towards them. "What about you two?" She demanded, leafing through more short and sexy dresses. "Any men to wrap you in something silk for?"

Jesse's face went red. Morgan nudged her. "Ooh, Jesse has a boyfriend, eh?" She grinned. "What's his name?"

"I think Gabriel would like you in something black." Mercy teased, pointing to a dress that would hug the body to the knees. "Or maybe a nice blue."

"I think _dad_ would like you in black." Jesse shot back. "Why don't you go try it on, Mercy?"

The banter ended up with Anna and Mercy both hauling quite a few dresses into the changing rooms. Morgan convinced Jesse to try on a pretty blue dress that flared at the waist, and Jesse shoved her into a dark green dress that hugged everything.

"Oh my," Sage had a devilish on her face, watching Morgan examine herself in the paneled mirrors, "wonder what would he say if he saw her dressed like that…" She was speaking to Anna, who smacked her arm. Morgan snapped to look at them. "Who?"

"Oh, no one, darling. We're just teasing. You look _lovely."_ Morgan gave a look that said she didn't believe her.

Anna ended up buying a pretty maroon skirt from Dillard's and Jesse and Mercy got a pair of matching shoes. They continued to go from store to store, buying things here and there until Jesse and Morgan complained about lunch. The girls split off to go eat while the adults did a bit more shopping.

"Well, this is nice. I don't get to go out like this that often nowadays." Jesse took a bite of greasy pizza. Morgan frowned. "Why not? You have friends and stuff, right?"

"A few. But my dad is-" she glanced around them, "-he's _out_. People know who he is and they know I'm his kid. So going out isn't always fun, if I even go out at all."

"That's _stupid._ " Morgan was upset by that. "What the fuck. People give you shit for who your dad is? Are you fucking serious?"

"Not as bad as the beginning." Jesse said with a shrug.

"It shouldn't be bad at _all_. They shouldn't give you shut for who your dad is; it shouldn't even fucking _matter_ who your dad is. That's fucking racist. Fucking species-ist." She lost some of the anger at that, making Jesse snort.

"It's no big deal. I have the pack. And Gabriel and few other people. It only bothers because it upsets my dad a lot." Jesse told her of the time Adam nearly tore a doorframe completely from the wall because a couple kids from her school tried to jump her. Morgan had a few more choice words to say about that.

"Well, you'd better get cracking on self defense." Jesse said. "If your mom's marrying into this mess people will try to treat you like this too."

"I'd like to see them try."

Jesse smiled. "You know, I think my dad's pack would like you a lot." She said. "You kind of remind of Mercy."

"I hope that's a good thing."

"Of course! Hey, you know what? You should come visit one day. You know, come to the Tri-Cities and hang out." She paused. "How long are you staying in town anyways?"

"Six months." Morgan grimaced.

"Six-" Jesse did a double take. "Six months?! Jeez, that's nuts. What about school?"

"I'm taking a semester off." Morgan explained. "I've got six months to learn about not dying around w-olves." She almost added the were, but remembered they were in public.

"It's not always easy, but can't your guys at home teach you? It's not like your mom knows that much more than you. What's the point in sending you so far away?"

Morgan smiled; she would have _gladly_ told Jesse that Derek was trying to get rid of her, but she spotted Anna and Sage over Jesse's shoulder and just shrugged. "Better version of the education? I don't know."

"See, now _that's_ stupid." Jesse echoed. Sage and Anna stopped at the table. "Enjoy your meal, ladies?" Sage teased. "Mercy abandoned us to go fawn over a tool shop a street over. I've convinced Anna to pamper herself with getting her hair done. Do you want to come?"

Jesse shook her purple hair. "I just dyed it before coming." She said.

"I don't cut my hair." Morgan said. "And salons give me headaches. We can just wander the mall until you're done."

"Alright, your loss, ladies!" Sage wound arms with Anna, who waved as she was dragged off.

"Don't cut your hair, huh? That explains why goes past your butt." Jesse teased.

Morgan flung a napkin.

* * *

A few hours later, after they'd been in every store in the mall and bought a few cute outfits and Morgan bought her brother and sister some souvenirs to mail over, Mercy texted Jesse letting them know Sage and Anna were on their way to the car and to meet them there.

"You think Sage will let us head back yet?" Jesse hunched dramatically. "My feet are dead."

"She'll probably make us go to another mall. It's only seven at night." Morgan laughed at Jesse's horrified expression. They hauled their bags towards the exit; there was a small cluster of young looking girls arguing in front of the doors, making the girls sitter towards the side.

"You really think you're that tough, bitch?" One girl with short blond hair shoved another with wiry red hair. "I'm sick of your shit. Either put up or shut the fuck up."

"You want to get your ass whooped so bad Janey? Fine, fuck you!" The shoved girl tackled the blond, and a brawl commenced. The other five girls around them started yelling and shoving each other, but no other fights broke out and no one intervened with the one in progress.

"What's wrong with you?!" Morgan snapped. "Break it up! Knock it off!" Jesse set her bags down, prepared to help Morgan break up the fight. Instead of saying anything, one of the girls charged up and clocked Morgan clean in the face. Blood sputtered from her nose and Morgan stumbled back. "Mind your own business dumb bitch!"

Morgan slammed into the girl like a steam roller, driving her into the ground in a manner that made Jesse wince. Morgan snatched the blonde brawler by the neck, arm around her throat, and hauled her back with the strength one wouldn't think her small body possessed, if they didn't know she played sports. The red head lunged; Morgan swung a fist over her captive's shoulder and landed it on the other's jaw. One girl went for Jesse; on a swift movement, Jesse had her pinned on the ground with her arm behind her back.

By this time, a family watching nearby had called security. The father and the two guards plowed into the fight, herding the girls apart and putting handcuffs on them all. The father stopped the officer from grabbing Morgan when she released the blond. "She came over to break up the fight, and they attacked her." He explained. "We saw the whole thing."

"Alright, alright. " The mall cop was tall and lanky, and looked exhausted. "Just sit to the side until paramedics and cops come. Gotta make a witness statement and get your nose checked - jesus christ girl, did you get stabbed?"

Morgan looked down; embedded in her leg was a small metal nail file. blood spilled down her thigh and dripped to the tile floor. Morgan quickly looked at the red and saw there were little scratches on her face and arms. There was only a little blood, but it was just enough -

"Oh, clever. " Morgan said, seconds before she hit the ground, pale as a sheet of paper.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If any of you lovely readers catch any spelling/grammatical errors, PM me please. I just lost my beta to the woes of college and I'm usually very good at proofreading. But you know, sometimes these things just sneak their way in.
> 
> ~Witchy


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I drew Morgan and Bran (as a wolf)! Unfortunately, AO3 won't cooperate and let me post the actual art through it's art thing, but I CAN give you the link. I hope to draw at lot more, because I really want to have a lot of art for Mercy Thompson in general and I like drawing my own characters. At least this way you have an idea of what Morgan looks like without me adding a bajillion words to chapters to describe her.
> 
>  
> 
> Link here > http://witch-of-hot-cocoa.tumblr.com/image/149972626415

Bran called Mercy before they could call him.

"Where is Morgana?" He tried to not snap at her.

"She and Jesse are coming to meet us at the car. What-" Mercy paused, and swore. "They got in some fight. They're being held until EMTs arrive."

"Are they both injured, or just Morgan?" Bran asked coolly, squeezing the phone a little hard. Mercy faltered. "How did - just Morgan. Jesse says she saw blood and passed out."

"Have Anna go with her to the hospital, and bring Sage back with you and Jesse." He instructed. He could hear doors and chattering voices all over; then Jesse's voice calling then over. "Inform Anna I'll send someone to pick them up." He hung up. He didn't have the patience to listen to any sort of banter.

He'd _felt_ the injuries as the happened. She probably had a broken nose, and there was a burning in the right thigh. Bran took a deep, deep breath, forcing the beast to settle.

He called Jodie and Charles, and then Samuel.

When Samuel arrived at the house a few moments later, he let his father take the driver's seat without a word and they made for Missoula. The only break in the tense silence was a text from Anna, informing them she and Morgan were taken to the Wyandotte Hospital, by the river. Bran almost bent the steering wheel.

* * *

They had already stitched her leg up when Morgan woke.

Groggily, she asked the person by her bed, "Is there any blood? I'll pass out again if I see any more blood."

The blurry figure shook their head; she came into focus as Anna. "All cleaned up. You got your nose broken and they had to give you three stitches, two internal. You've been out for about two hours." Anna seemed amused by the entire situation. "All your clothes survived, at least."

Morgan groaned. She was still in her regular clothes, but her shoes and socks were gone and her sleeves had been tucked up for an IV. She tried to pretend it wasn't there. "Please tell me I at least broke one of their bones in payment." She got out.

Anna leaned back. "You dislocated one girl's shoulder and broke another's jaw." She said. "They're all facing charges, but you are free to go when the doctor clears you. Jesse is unharmed." Anna cut off the question Morgan started. "Mercy and Sage took her home already, along with all your other things. Bran is sending someone to come get us."

"Jodie's gonna be so mad." Morgan was glad she was so comfortably propped against pillows, because when she made the mistake of glancing at her arm she saw the drip line sticking out of her skin and almost passed out again. "Momma's gonna _kill_ me."

"They're not the only ones." Anna spoke seriously. "Bran is upset; he's mad, actually. He's not mad at you, but he's going to act like it. When you see him, don't get defensive if he snaps at you. Just tell him what happened and try to be calm."

"Oh god." Morgan wanted to puke. "I'd rather be unconscious when he shows up. He terrifies me." She didn't really understand why she said that out loud, but she felt so comfortable around Anna, it felt right. "And it's not just because he's the big bad boss guy and could kill me with his pinkie. I think he's been flirting with me and that's even scarier."

Anna smiled tenderly. "He can be very intimidating. It comes with the territory." She patted Morgan's uninjured leg. "He's a rather straightforward man. If you think he's flirting with you, he probably is."

"Christ, what am I supposed to do about that? And aren't I, like, and infant compared to him? And doesn't he have sons?" Morgan's cheeks were red. "Aren't you _married_ to one of his sons?"

"Charles. Yes. How about you try flirting back?" Anna prodded. (She figured, she may as well give Bran a hand, since he wasn't making that much progress on his own.) "Do you think he's attractive?"

This was a strange conversation for a hospital bed sectioned off by curtains. Morgan thought for a moment. "Yeah. He's pretty damn attractive." It surprised her, how easily she'd said it aloud. But it was true. All the wolves were obscenely good looking, but Bran Cornick seemed to draw her eye since she'd spotted him in the church.

"If he's flirting, then he obviously finds you attractive. Give it shot. Just don't do it until after he calms down about this incident. It might be best to let me do the talking unless you're addressed."

Morgan nodded, attempting to fathom the fact that Bran's daughter-in-law just gave her advice and encouraged her to flirt with him. Maybe it was the drugs they gave her.

The curtain scraped open. A woman in a doctor's coat and holding a clipboard came into their little enclosure, smiling. "Well, you've certainly had an adventure today!" She declared, setting down her papers by the bed. "How are we feeling? Any pain?"

"No." Morgan felt especially numb, which was good. "Did I really get stabbed with a stupid nail file?"

"Yep! A whole three inches deep!" This doctor was too happy. "It didn't hit anything major, luckily, so while we had to put in two internal stitches to keep everything together, it should heal up in no time. Your nose, however, was broken. We've already set it in place and taped it up, but you're going to have to be careful for the next two weeks to not knock it out of place again. You will have to change the bandages and the tape between now and then, so if you don't feel comfortable doing it yourself you can set an appointment with a doctor and have them do it."

"My brother-in-law is a doctor." Anna said. "We'll be fine."

"Oh, good!" The doctor began to check some of Morgan's vitals. "You're going to have black eyes for a few weeks, and eating might ache just a little. Otherwise, your stitches can come out in somewhere between a week or two, depending on how well it's healing. Keep it dry for forty-eight-hours, and after that it's best to not scrub it or soak it until after the stitches come out. Your doctor fellow should be able to help you with any problems, and he probably can help you get your stitches out at home."

"Oh boy, that's a lot of instructions." Morgan definitely was a little loopy from the pain killers. The doctor laughed and Anna grinned. "Don't worry. There will be papers given to help you remember. And I'm sure your sister here will remember the well enough."

"Oh, she's-"

"Thank you, doctor. Is there anything else we should know?" Anna cut in. Morgan didn't have the energy to argue. The doctor rambled on about some other things, removed the IVs and needles (Morgan looked a little green, but she felt better when Anna patted her hand) and took Anna off the fill out her release papers. Morgan was left to sit up and pull on her shoes. She left her socks off, not willing to battle with them at the moment.

The curtain snapped open. Bran looked calm enough, but Morgan took Anna's words to heart and tied her laces the rest of the way, eyes firmly on the ground. He watches, hands firmly at his sides, an unmoving statue. The hospital noises around them filled their silence as he waited for her to finish.

When she looked up, she immediately dropped her eyes and pursed her lips. She felt more than a little embarrassed by the fact that he himself had come to get her and Anna from the hospital.

' _Not even two weeks and you've already ended up fucking up majorly. Good job, Morgan.'_

Finally, Bran spoke. "What you did was very foolish." He said, and Morgan decided she'd be OK with a train hitting her right about now. She bit her tongue and nodded.

"We're all set to leave-" Anna stopped suddenly. "Bran. I thought you would send just Samuel."

"She's a guest in my town. I'm responsible for her safety." Bran said none too kindly, eyes still on Morgan. A nurse approached with a wheelchair and Morgan thought she would be better off faint again. "Hospital protocol, honey." The sweet woman said. "I have to wheel you out."

Morgan's legs were a little weak, but she slid into the wheelchair easily and clasped her fingers uselessly in her lap. Bran and Anna followed the nurse to the car loop.

Samuel leaned against the car. He smiled at Morgan, almost teasingly. "And here we thought Mercy would be the one to cause trouble this time. You cost me ten bucks."

"Tragic." Morgan said dryly, smiling a little. "I'm sure you can manage ten whole dollars." Samuel's humor instantly made her feel better. Sarcasm did that to her. He smiled at the nurse, who looked a little dazzled. "We can take care of her from here. Thank you."

Bran helped her in the front seat, hands gently gripping her elbow and waist and she awkwardly swung her injured leg in. Anna sat behind her and Samuel sat behind Bran.

The drive was tense for the first hour. Morgan couldn't bring herself to do more than stare out the window, terrified of catching Bran's eye. Anna and Samuel sensed just how angry Bran was; wisely they remained silent.

Well, mostly. Samuel decided to break the silence at last within an hour from Aspen Creek. "Forgive me if this somehow insults you-" Bran gripped the steering wheel just a little harder "-But how on earth did you not feel yourself getting stabbed?"

Morgan craned her neck, looking back at him; he was smiling, a taunting glint in his eyes. "What, you've never had a patient show up at your figurative doorstep with a nail file sticking out of their leg?" She countered, keeping her voice light.

"Usually that happens in someone's back. Not their leg. Normal people notice that sort of thing."

"Well, I was-" she flustered a little "-there was a lot of adrenaline. Heat of the moment and all that. Someone had literally just broken my because I told them to knock it off."

"So someone breaks your nose, you jump into a brawl and get stabbed?" Bran snapped, not as harsh as she'd been expecting.

Morgan's expression didn't change, but she was irritated with Bran for being mad at her. "Someone broke my nose and I knocked them on the ground. I got stabbed because I was restraining someone." She said a little too hotly. "I don't jump into brawls, I break them up."

"That's not your job. You shouldn't get involved at all; there are other people better equipped to handle those situations." Bran kept his eyes on the road.

"I play referee on two sports teams where half the players try to strangle each other over a ball. If I can throw a three-hundred pound outfielder off my one-ten goalie and _keep_ her off, I would think I'm equipped enough to handle a couple of street thugs who don't know how to form a fist." Morgan's hand gripped her seat. She was mad. She hadn't intended to get mad, but somehow she was.

"You may very well deal with people you know often enough," Bran was mad too, but he spoke with a far more level tone than she did "but what if one of those girls had been armed with something faster than a nail file? Or had they all turned on you at once? What if they hadn't been human?"

"What if they had been werewolves, you mean." Morgan didn't really understand where Bran was going, but Anna and Samuel could see where this was going. He was mad because she got hurt; because she got _herself_ hurt. It had been just like Mercy and the Porsche, but this time, Bran wasn't worried about a coyote stealing another car and driving off a cliff. This time, he was worried about a human girl jumping in a werewolf fight and getting killed.

"You are nowhere near prepared to deal with anything _other_ than your little sports teams." The word 'little' made Morgan's nostrils flare and a redness creep up her neck. "You will _die_ if you interfere in the wrong business. You are human and fragile, and will break easily. If you keep up this need to jump into any fight you see, and interfere in a match between wolves -even when they wear human forms-, a nail file will be the least of your concerns."

"I'm not _stupid."_ Morgan snapped. "I know my own limits. Do you really think I'd dive headfirst into something beyond me? I'm not blind either, Bran. I can at least tell when someone isn't a werewolf."

Samuel looked pointedly at Anna. It seemed even with her in the car, the anger and no frustration passing between the two would not stop any time soon. She took the hint. "Morgan, Bran may have a hard time of expressing this," she cut in, unabashed, "but he's not as angry as he is just worried. We've seen people die because they stepped into something beyond them, and no one, especially Bran, wants to see that happen to you."

"But it _won't."_ Morgan's anger sort of dissipated when Anna touched her shoulder.

"But you're still hurt right now." Anna said gently. "And seeing you - _anyone_ around him hurt, upsets Bran. You both are getting a little over worked over this, so you both should apologize for snapping."

Morgan sat back, completely diffused. Bran's grip eased on the steering wheel. Morgan didn't want to apologize first, but she was the reason they were in the car at all right now. She sighed gently. "I'm sorry I did something stupid and got myself hurt." She said. "I'll try not to do it anymore."

"I'm sorry I got so angry with you." Bran said, voice much gentler and calmer. He glanced at Anna in the rear view mirror, nodding slightly in thanks.

Samuel gave her a thumbs up behind the front seat. Anna smiled triumphantly.

* * *

They dropped Morgan off at Jodie's house. She was waiting on the front porch, arms crossed, legs apart. Bran helped Morgan from the car and up the porch. "Go easy on her." He said to Jodie, handing her Morgan's things. "I've already said enough."

Jodie nodded and opened the door. "Call me if anything changes or concerns you, or if you need help changing the bandages." Samuel said from the car as Morgan limped inside.

Jodie closed the door gently. "Bran already spoke to you about this mess, then." She said. Morgan nodded, shoulders slumped. "You should go wash her your hair, there's a bit of blood in it. Make sure you call your mother."

"Oh jeez." Morgan fished her phone from her purse. "On a scale of grounded to death, how mad was she?"

"Not quite death, but maybe a limb or two." Jodie joked. "Go on."

Morgan limped up the stairs, already listening to the dial tone. At the click of an answer, she took a deep breath. "Hey, momma…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short chapter, to transition from this to the next. I'm honestly not going to spend too much time on the actual initiation of Morgan and Bran's relationship itself, because the majority of the story focuses on after the fact, when there's already a relationship. 
> 
> The plot gets rolling in the next chapter! See you then!


	5. Chapter 5

Things seemed to settle as time moved on.

The weather began to change as July became August, the heat beginning to be pushed by cool breezes. The leaves remained green, but there was the barest hint of the change to come in the trees.

Jesse and Mercy were set to head home in the middle of August, should everything be handled back home. Morgan continued to learn the ways and woes of living with werewolves, this time with Jesse and Mercy tagging on their own lessons. Jesse was especially a help, explaining the odds and ends of being an Alpha's daughter.

The two were easily best friends, Morgan and Jesse. They often spent time at one house or another, giggling in the kitchen over gossip or telling dramatic stories of their lives and adventures. They agreed they should visit one another after Jesse left; Jesse wanted Morgan to meet some of the pack in the Tri-Cities, and Morgan wanted Jesse to meet some of her teammates. They were two troublesome pees in a pod, as Bran called them, with a knack for trailing smiles in their wake.

Morgan had taken Anna's advice to heart. A few days after the Missoula incident, when Morgan came to hang out with Jesse, she decided that despite being a terrible flirt, she was going to see how far it would go.

Bran took her flirting as an open invitation to spend time with her; on some days, Jodie would be mysteriously absent, and Bran would come share tea with Morgan. They could talk for hours about all manner of things, and Morgan found that her initial fears and concerns of Bran were immediately diminished. She enjoyed being in his company.

When August became September, and Jesse had since gone home, Morgan began spending more and more time with Bran. He even took over some of her little impromptu lessons, teaching her about pack dynamics and telling her pack magic. Tea became lunch, lunch became dinner, and dinner led to a kiss at the doorstep when she went back to Jodie's house.

The relationship was tentative and set at a slow and steady pace, and she was thankful for it. She'd little to no experience with dating of any kind; the most of it being a few dates she went on with a cute girl in highschool and that was it. Bran was patient and kind (and playful, as he liked to tease her often). Morgan had the strangest feeling that he would go as slow as she needed, as long as she stayed. Whether that meant her staying with him or staying in Aspen Creek, she really didn't know.

His family seemed pleased. During one of the cook outs Bran's house, Morgan made a beeline for Bran and kissed his cheek, and found the Cornick sons and several other members of the pack looking at her with a very satisfied expression, giving her almost chills. Anna gave her a thumbs up. Bran told her not to worry about them. It still bugged her.

Morgan wondered, briefly before bed one night, if she could talk to Bran about Derek. He was, after all, the Alpha of all north American Alphas. Although she probably knew he wouldn't be able to do much to interfere; she perished the thought and tucked into bed. All she had on Derek, in truthfulness, was a gut feeling. It would be stupid to present any sort of case with just the feeling in your digestive track.

She squeezed her eyes shut. It would be fine.

* * *

Jodie called Bran at two in the morning.

"Morgan is gone. The back door is wide open and her scent disappears at the treeline."

Bran felt a fraction of his control break for a split second. He inhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. Then he stood and grabbed the nearest shirt. "Was there any sort of indication as to why she would leave?" He spent enough time with her now that he would think he'd notice if something was wrong. He could feel nothing through their mate bond; she was a blank slate.

Jodie gave a tentative pause. "She sleepwalks on occasion. There's a bolt on the door to keep her locked in, but it looks like she dragged over the dresser and climbed for it."

That was certainly news to him. No one had mentioned Morgan having a sleepwalking issue at all, not even Morgan herself.

"Why wasn't this mentioned before?" He demanded, calling for his sons and a few trusted members of the pack, but he used no phone to do so.

"We didn't think it was necessary." Jodie said confidently. Bran paused at the door. "Is this we you and her, or you and your brother?"

Jodie didn't answer. Bran took the obvious answer in stride. "This is your final warning, Jodie. You may be his sister, but this is my territory and you live in my pack. You both answer to me. I have forgiven you passing him information out of respect for your father, but if I find out you are keeping secrets that affect the wellbeing and safety of my pack from me again, there will be punishment." He said firmly, letting the taste of Alpha slide into his words. Even from her house, he knew Jodie could feel his authority through pack bonds.

"Yes, Marrok." She said, voice low. "Am I to help search for her?"

"Yes. See if you can pick her scent up again. I'll send someone to pair with you." He hung up and found he'd dented the door handle when he opened his front door.

Jodie and Derek were the children of a werewolf who had been Bran's friend for several centuries. When his children were born, Bran allowed him to Change them. When his friend died, Bran supported his very dominant son in taking over the pack they resided in. When Jodie fell ill to depression years ago, he brought her to Aspen Creek to help her heal. The two of them were always very intelligent, even from young ages. Derek was a charismatic master manipulator and Jodie was silent, unobtrusive and observant. She had often spent days collecting information and gossip in the New Orleans pack and reporting to her brother, rooting out any forms of insubordination.

Bran had a sneaking suspicion Jodie's depression was feigned, to get her in the Marrok pack. It was no secret Derek yearned to be at the top; he was very dominant and had high aspirations. But he was only seventh in terms of Alpha ranks in the Marrok's lands, so he had to find other ways to snatched his goals. Jodie, loving her brother dearly, would do anything to help.

Bran wondered if Derek knew yet of the mate bond between he and Morgan. Though his gut told him no, Jodie would not break the unspoken rule of silence on the matter, the fact that she hadn't mentioned Morgan's sleepwalking wondered what she had been planning to do with that information she so obviously withheld.

Charles called. He and Anna agreed to meet Bran at one of the many trails through the woods near Jodie's house, and informed him Samuel had already changed his skin and gone out in search. The few other pack members he called upon for this - Asil, Sage, Collin, a few more - had already made for the wilderness. Search and rescue missions were not uncommon when the children would wander, but such a situation where someone wandered out in their sleep was new.

Bran climber into the humvee and made down the road. It would be fine, he made himself think.

(His knuckles were white on the wheel.)

When he pulled up beside Charles's red truck, Anna was leaning on the hood, wrapped in one of her husband's coats and another of her own tied around her waist. "Charles already went out to search. We thought it would be a good idea if I stayed with you." She said. Bran nodded; Anna's presence helped with the tension, but he remained precariously on edge.

They began to trek into the woods. The ground made soft crunches under their boots as they trekked in darkness; not that the dark was an issue for wolves. The forest was eerily quiet as the weather began to make way for the cold, biting winter. The air was only filled occasionally by the erant voice calling out for the missing girl.

"She sleepwalks?" Anna asked after a moment. "Do you think she's still asleep?"

Bran took a moment to think on it. Through the mate bond, he still felt nothing, as if she wasn't even there. "There's a strong chance." He said at last. "Sometimes it's difficult to wake sleepwalkers."

Anna tightened the extra jacket rolled at her waist. "Have you tried reaching for her yet? Through the bond?"

"Yes. She's human, and it's weak and fragile. It won't do so much as give her mood swings yet." Bran said, offering a hand to Anna as they climbed over a fallen log that had begun to rot years ago. Anna stopped suddenly, holding his hand. "What about with your mind?"

Bran looked at her. "I have been careful not to frighten her." He said tentatively, then admitted, "I hadn't thought to use it."

"Well, give it a shot." Anna ordered. "If she's asleep, it could wake her up."

Bran chuckled at the commanding omega. Then, tenderly, he followed the mate bond's winding magic and reached with his mind, calling for Morgan.

Something like surprise stirred at the end of the bond. He was relieved to feel her again, to know she was awake and...angry? Frustrated, with herself. "Clever omega." He said to Anna. "She's awake now. And upset with herself."

"If she's awake, it'll be easier to find her." Anna declared, and lead the march forward. She called loudly into the dark wilderness, voice echoing off the mountains.

Bran followed. Charles's Anna had always been a gift, from the moment she met Charles. Without her, it was very much possible that Bran and Charles both could have been lost to Asil's witch. Even after, the omega had been his saving grace in Leah's death. She held his head when they pulled Leah from the river. She held his hand through the funeral, curled up next to him to ward his nightmares, and she sat with him for days to help keep the beast at bay.

Even now she soothed him with her presence. It was good to have her. She was a treasure, and he hated knowing he'd never let her leave Aspen Creek.

A wolf howled, soon echoed by a few others. Samuel had found her, and they were nearby.

* * *

_"Morgan."_

Morgan woke with a start, lurching upright - and hitting her head on the broken end of a low hanging branch.

"Aw, fuck-" she reeled back, clutching her forehead, landing on hard dirt. "What the fuck?!"

It took her a moment to realize that she was not in her room at Jodie's house, but out in the thick forest. It was dark out, near pitch black. There was a crisp breeze rushing through the trees, but other than the rustling leaves, there was almost no sound in the dark wilderness. She was barefoot, wearing a pair of briefs and a tank top, and she was one hundred percent certain she'd been sleeping walking.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me." She spat out, scowling at her dirty toes. "This is some serious bullshit. Out of all the stupid fucking things to do…" A chilly breeze rushed against her, making her shiver lightly. "Fuck you mother nature!" She cried indignantly, glaring yp at the night sky.

The wind whistled in response. A red ribbon fluttered from its spot high in the branches, but remained firmly knotted to the tree. Morgan frowned.

She staggered to her feet and looked around best she could. Several yards up the slope of the mountain, her eye was drawn to a stick jutting from the ground, between two trees. It was thick and Y-shaped. She had a strong feeling she was the one to put it there, and an even stronger feeling there were more sticks and ribbons scattered amongst the forest.

But why would she do that in her sleep? She tried to recall what she'd been dreaming about - there was usually a correlation - but she could only somewhat recollect a blurry face and tears on her shoulder. She remembered Bran's voice, though. Strong and ringing in her head, as if he'd been speaking softly against her ear. She shivered. She almost felt like that wasn't a dream.

Morgan collected herself, stomping a foot to calm her nerves. "Get a grip." She mummbled, rubbing her arms. She had to figure out how to get back towards town. There was no telling how far she'd walked, how long she been out for. For all she knew, she could be miles out in the wilderness, and no one would know she was gone until morning. If she was lucky, Jodie would notice the doors being open soon.

There was a crunch of twigs behind her. Startled, Morgan whipped around and met the piercing blue-white eyes of a massive, terrifying looking, white as snow wolf. She cursed, loudly, stumbling against the broken tree she'd woken by. The wolf froze, lifting it's ears and holding it's head low, as if preparing to pounce. She saw its haunches tighten for a pounce, then it lifted its muzzle and howled into the night. There were responses in the distance. "Fucking-" Morgan considered climbing the tree in her panicked state, "-great, now I'm going to get _mauled_ by fucking wolves, brilliant."

The wolf snorted, as if laughing at her, and laid down. She frowned, regarding it carefully. It rolled to its side, stretching out its long, massive legs. The front legs looked like they belonged on a slightly skinny bear, honestly, and it terrified Morgan. The wolf sighed.

She slumped, a realization hitting her. "You're a...werewolf, aren't you?" She asked, carefully.

The wolf rolled back onto it's belly and rested it's head on its paws, nodding once.

Morgan slid to the ground as her legs gave out. She'd never seen a werewolf in wolf form before. Now she understood why everyone was so afraid. The wolf was huge, probably as big as a couch or even a whole damn bed. Jodie said they were big; she'd didn't realize they'd be this big.

"You...did you come out here to find me?" Morgan asked. The wind passed again and she shivered.

The wolf nodded, then rose and trotted over to her. She almost cringed away. Instead, she gripped drying grass and kept her eyes on her knees. The massive white wolf took one moment to look at her, so close it's breath brushed her skin. Then with another dramatic sigh, it flopped down next to her, curling around her so she could be enveloped in its body heat. "Jesus-" Morgan shifted so she wouldn't dig her elbows into its side, "-you're big and you're a radiator. Uh, thank you."

The wolf snorted and rested it's head on her lap in silence.

They sat quietly for several minutes. Morgan kept her hands at her sides, too nervous to move them lest she make the wolf mad. She wondered who the wolf was; she had the feeling it was a he. There's was no way it was Jode. She vaguely thought of Bran, but looking down, she got the feeling this was someone else.

"Hey, who are you anyways?" She asked suddenly, before realizing just how dumb the question was. The wolf lifted its head, giving her a look that said, "really?"

She crosses her arms. "Don't be rude. It just occurred to me." She muttered.

Another wolf came running from the darkness, all cinnamon and red and smaller than the white wolf. The white one raised his head and stood, shaking the dirt off his fur lightly. "Ew, I'm in the splash zone here." Morgan complained, earning a bump from the wolf's hip.

The cinnamon wolf seemed to roll its eyes. Morgan heard footsteps - human footsteps - approaching from down the slope of the mountain, and Anna's voice, calling for her. "Up here!" She called back, using the tree to help her stand. The cinnamon wolf regarded her briefly; then his body suddenly began to shift and morph.

Morgan had never seen a wolf in wolf skin, much less the change itself. Jodie and Bran both explained that the Change took several minutes, and it was not a sight for the weak of stomach. But this wolf became human in a mere moment in time, the shift of wolf skin and bones to that of a human's being something almost artistic. When she began to recognize the man as Charles, Bran's half-native son who always looked so stone cold and scary quite frankly, she covered her eyes. She had no intention of seeing a naked man any time soon, especially not her boy- Bran's son.

"I'm decent." He said, voice smooth but deep. "Don't worry."

Morgan peeked between her fingers. Charles was clothed in a white tee shirt and jeans, to her surprise. "Whoa." She dropped her hands. "How'd you do that? Does everyone do that?" She asked, fascinated. The white wolf gave another snort, but this time it sounded like a laugh.

"I don't know how it works." Charles said honestly. "It just happens when I want it to. I'm the only one."

"That's cool." She said, as Anna and Bran ran up.

Bran's hands enclosed on his shoulders. "Are you hurt?" He asked. Demanded, really.

"No, just a little chilly." On cue, Anna untied the coat around her waist and handed it to her. "And definitely a little cranky."

They all looked at her strangely. The wolf looked amused. "What?" She blushed, pulling Anna's coat tight around her. "You wake up in your underwear in the middle of the dark ass woods and get the life scared out of you by a big ass wolf with a sense of humor." She paused. "Oh, sorry." She said to Bran. "I swear a lot when I'm cranky."

"I think we can let this one pass." He said, that amused expression she was used to sliding into place. "Samuel has a habit of teasing people."

"That's Samuel? Oh my gosh, no wonder he's so mean."

Samuel the wolf sneezed on her bare legs. Morgan flinched. "Eww!" She whined. Anna laughed. "Well, at least we know you're defiantly OK."

"Let's get you back to town." Bran said, and before she could give an ounce of protest he scooped Morgan into his arms and cradled her against his chest. She turned a brilliant shade of scarlet. "I can walk! I walked all the way out here!" She latched onto his jacket, afraid he'd drop her.

"Not only do you not have shoes, but you aren't wearing pants. I'll carry you to the car." Bran said firmly, ending the discussion. Anna laughed again, taking Charles's hand and following after. Samuel shook his fur and trailed along.

When they reached the car, Anna's cellphone notified her that almost everyone who'd come out to search had returned home. Bran sat Morgan in the passenger seat of the humvee and Samuel clamored into the back. "Are long adventures like this common for your sleepwalking episode?" Bran started, once they were rolling back towards town.

Morgan brushed her fingers over Anna's jacket. "I wandered out into the swamps when I was sixteen, but otherwise not really. I deadbolt the door for a reason-" she stopped abruptly, then looked at him. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. It's embarrassing. I wasn't even going to tell Jodie, but Derek beat me to it."

"I understand." Bran said patiently. "But you shouldn't be embarrassed about this. You can tell me these things, Morgan."

Samuel made a gag like sound, and Morgan stuck her tongue out at him. Bran felt his shoulders slump just a little. This girl would be the death of him.

(No one noticed the way Morgan glanced worriedly out into the woods, as if something out there had her unsettled.)

* * *

The next day was spent trying to map out Morgan's room so she wouldn't get out again. Anna had insisted on coming to help, and dragged Bran along with her as well as Samuel.

Jodie had finished replacing the wood glue with bolts on the deadlock. "This is ridiculous. How am I supposed to keep myself from going out and playing bedtime hookie if I just drag the furniture over? How did I even do that anyways?! That thing weighs a ton!"

"You could always just come sleep with me instead." Bran suggested from his perch by the window. Morgan made an embarrassed noise, a red flush creeping up her neck. Anna and Bran laughed; even Jodie grinned a little.

Morgan shot him a half hearted glare and rifled through her drawers in an attempt to distract herself. Her hand brushed dozens of short, red ribbons. She frowned; she hadn't packed those.

Instead of saying anything, she moved a pair of jeans over them and pretended they weren't there.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the plot begins!!


	6. Chapter 6

Morgan didn't have a lot of experience with magic.

She was Pagan, yes. She knew spells and rituals and how to do them. But she didn't _do_ magic. It wasn't something that interested her much. She supposed it could be something to do with the fact that her grandmother telling horror stories about her grandmother and her run in with a voodoo priestess in the old days of New Orleans. It could also be related to the frankly frightening tales of Fae and other creatures (that she knew were real).

But she knew enough to know that the ribbons and oddly shaped sticks had some sort of meaning. She remembered red ribbons were used on protection spells. But why did she put up mediocre protection spells in the woods while sleepwalking those few days ago? The notions seemed a little ridiculous.

She considered, in passing, asking Bran for advice. But Jodie had mentioned some time ago that Bran hated witches. Didn't tell her why. When she had explained to Morgan that some packs hired witches to help keep things under wraps, and Morgan had asked who Aspen Creek hires, Jodie had said, “We don't need a witch because we have Charles. Bran hates witches anyways.”

Morgan decided against it. She didn't want to stir something that didn't need stirring. Perhaps, if she couldn't figure things out alone, she could ask Charles for help. He scared her, yes, but he seemed nice enough. He might be able to help figure out something.

Morgan stuffed the bundle of red ribbons away in her suitcase, burying them in one of the interior pockets. She hoped there would be no more nightly excursions.

“Morgan?”

Jodie lingered in the doorway. She looked uncharacteristically upset, eyes red and puffy and lips pursed. Morgan frowned. “Is everything OK?” She asked, tentative.

“No.” Jodie said, voice hoarse. “A member of the pack has passed. He was...a good friend.”

Morgan's hands sat awkwardly in her lap. “I'm sorry for your loss.” She said softly. She didn't know how to console someone when a friend dies.

“The funeral has been arranged for this weekend. I would appreciate it if you attended.” Jodie turned, ending the conversation there. Morgan was left sitting on the floor of her room, hands in her lap, and an uneasy feeling in her stomach. 

* * *

The funeral came faster than Morgan expected.

She didn't really know what to expect. The only funeral she'd ever attended was her grandmother's funeral, and that had been no means by the norm. The woman had been a creole jazz singer, and as such she was given a true New Orleans funeral, jazz music marching from the church to the burying grounds. There had been smiles and singing and dancing that day. But here, there was none of that.

Morgan slid from the car and awkwardly smoothed the edge of the  skirt she wore down. Jodie was silent. Her eyes were still red from crying, and she had this expression that sent anyone who approached her away. Even Morgan was put off by it.

Everyone was somber and quiet, the only chatter a crowd of hushed whispers. Some people eyed her, like they always did, but most had gone and started ignoring her.

Jodie made a beeline for the church, leaving Morgan to hurry after her. Anna appeared, suddenly, and took Morgan’s hand. “I have a favor to ask.” She said. Jodie stopped abruptly, looking back. Anna ignored her. “I need you to sit with Bran. This has upset a lot of people, including Bran, and you would help. A lot.” She said, smiling softly. Morgan took a moment, looking at Jodie. “Will you...be alright? If I do?”

There seemed to be a thick silence around them. Jodie turned. “Yes. Go on.” She said, disappearing into church. Morgan gave a weak smile at Anna. “Well, ok.”

Anna took her arm and guided her inside. They walked briskly up the aisle, the silence growing as the passed each pew. Morgan got the uncomfortable feeling everyone was watching. Again.

Bran sat up front, relaxed, with his legs stretched out and his arms slung across the back of the pew. Charles and Samuel sat a few seats down, sitting with slightly better posture, but still more comfortably than Morgan would expect at a normal funeral; had it not been for the sleek designer suits, she'd almost think they'd just wandered in unplanned. Bran glanced at the two as they approached, seemingly unphased by the entire ordeal. Anna practically pushed Morgan into the seat next to him, and sat between her and Charles.

“Hello.” Bran said, voice holding a bit of curiosity. His hand slid from the pew and onto Morgan's shoulder, and she relaxed into his touch. She smiled at him, a gentle, small smile. “Anna thought it'd be better if I sat with you.” She explained. Bran smiled back. “Of course she did.”

As if that settled the whole event of it, the whispering and light chatter burst into existence again. Morgan sat still, crossing her ankles like her mother taught her. It was a closed casket funeral, thankfully. She couldn't stomach the sight of a dead body.

After a few moments of people settling into their seats, a withered old man in robes - she recognized the reverend, but had never learned his name - began to stride with purpose up the aisle, carrying an ancient book, the same he read from in mass. As soon as he began to move, everyone else silenced and turned to the alter.

The boom made a satisfying _thump_ on the altar, despite how gently he laid it out. Morgan was vaguely surprised to hear him open the funeral with something similar to a wedding’s opening, before reading several passages from the bible. He paused, then looked up at the audience with an aged smile. “Daniel was always so mindful of himself when he was helping here, in the church, but that didn't stop him from letting his mind drift off and dropping table and chairs on his toes. He'd always smile and say, “Sorry, Reverend. I was thinking about dinner again.” That boy had a mind for food and the skilled hands of a chef. His roast will always be the most wonderful thing I've tasted.” He said, earning small smiles from the audience. Then he sat in his chair, and, as if it was some sort of cue, people began to come up one by one, always waiting to rise after the last person sat, and read a passage from the Bible and tell a short tale of the deceased. Mostly everybody had something humorous to tell. Some stories were sweet, some were somber, and some were heartbreaking.

Slowly, Morgan began to realize that people were pointedly looking towards her, but they weren't looking at her or even Bran. Behind her sat Asil and Sage, and a few others, but it was obvious they were looking at Asil, and the looks were not pleasant. She frowned; did Asil have some sort of bad history with the dead man? Did something happen before his death?

As soon as she noticed that, suddenly she could feel the tension, thick in the air. It weighed over the congregation like a thick blanket. Morgan fiddled with the small gold ring on her middle finger and tried to look normal, but it must of been obvious how put off she was by the animosity because Bran’s thumb rubbed soothing circles into her shoulder.

Morgan didn't pay much attention to what everyone said after that. She just kind of stared at the altar and occasionally glanced at whoever was walking towards it. Jodie came and went, telling something about how she met Daniel, eyes still red and fresh tears on her cheek. Morgan tried not to watch her cry.

An old man wobbled up to the stand, helped by a lovely young man with wonderful green eyes. His story made everyone chuckle; a moment into Morgan realized he'd called Daniel his twin and he addressed the young man with green eyes as pops, as if he was his father or grandfather. Morgan wondered, briefly, how it felt to outlive your descendants as a werewolf, and decided it would probably drive most people insane, having to bury their children after watching them rot away.

When the withered twin of Daniel began to drag himself back to his seat with the help of his pops, a man in nothing but jeans appeared on the raised stage where the altar stood. He just formed out of thin air, much to Morgan’s surprise, sitting with his legs apart and his forearms resting on his knees. He watched the old man and his pops with sad green eyes, the same green the old man’s pops had.

His face was identical to the photograph of Daniel on the back wall, save for the fact that it was slightly transparent.

Morgan didn't move much more than a shift in her seat, didn't turn her head, didn't gasp like she wanted too. She could only halfheartedly stare. She'd never seen the dead in her adult life; most children who grow up in New Orleans see a ghost at one point or another. The city was filled with them. They usually grow out of it by puberty, although rarely they retain the gift. Morgan had not been one to retain such a skill, which was why she was so stunned to see a ghost attending his own funeral.

Another man took the altar, telling of an adventure he'd shared with Daniel, when they ended up in a bull riding rodeo in Kentucky twenty three years ago. The ghost laughed with everyone else and bowed his head. He dropped his arms and stretched his legs out, revealing nearly translucent but solid enough red ribbons, bowed around his ankles.

That caught Morgan off guard. She flinched.

The ghost noticed her flinch a split second after Bran did. Both looked at her curiously, but only Bran turned his attention away.

Daniel the ghost stood abruptly and charged over, eyes wide and frantic. He dropped to his knees in front of Morgan, grabbing her legs. His ghostly hands felt like icy air through her skirt. “You see me.” He said, voice airy and light.

She watched the man at the altar. She tried to ignore him.

“You're the girl who came…” He reached for her arms, but he passed through her. “It's coming. Bad things in Aspen Creek always start with a funeral. Ask about Carter Wallace and what followed his death.”

He stood again, looking towards the doors. “It won't get me. I'm safe. Asil saved me. But the pack isn't. I'll stick around.” He glanced back at her; she watched from the corner of her eyes, hands slightly clammy now. “I don't know what you did in those woods, but it won't help much longer.” And then he was gone.

Morgan kept herself very well put together for the remainder of the funeral. She kept it together long enough to kiss Bran goodbye, ride back with Jodie, and make it to her room before she stuffed her face into the pillows and let herself hyperventilate in fear.

“How's Asil holding up? He liked Daniel. Killing him would have a bad effect on him.” Samuel asked, standing between Bran’s desk and Charles.

“He's alright. Sage is sticking around him.” Anna leaned in the doorway. “It took a toll on him, but he knew it had to be done and knows he helped Daniel.”

Charles made a humming noise. “It happened quite abruptly. I've known wolves to lose themselves quickly, but Daniel was seventy years a werewolf. Even if he was losing his mind, it would have been noticeable by the rest of the pack.” He noted.

“He knew something was wrong.” Anna spoke gently this time. “He knew and he was scared. He had come to find me, I think, instead of going to you, Bran, because he didn't want to die yet.”

Bran leaned forward. He was sitting cross-legged in front of his fireplace, watching the flames. He was troubled by this business with Daniel. He was always upset when a pack member died, but when they were as abrupt and quite frankly under unknown circumstances it led him down a deep trail of concern.

He rested his chin on his hands. This was troubling business indeed.

“He didn't say much before he changed, but he asked me something, and I couldn't find an appropriate time to tell you.” Anna rubbed her wrists. “He asked if I knew of the witch with the Cornick name and her collection of werewolves.”

Samuel and Charles whipped around to face a sheepish Anna, eyes wide. Bran closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “That was all he said of that?” He asked carefully.

“Yes. Right after he began to change and then he tried to attack me. Asil snapped his neck to save Sage and I both.” She said. She cowed a little, sensing the way the mood took a dangerous turn for dark and the way the room temperature dropped a few degrees.

“The witch is dead.” Bran said firmly. “She didn't have the power to bring herself back from the dead, and no creature that can would choose her to resurrect.”

Anna didn't say anything; she didn't have too, because they all knew that despite the strong affirmation from Bran himself, there was no telling what the Fae of that level of power, or even those witches, would ever do. They were as unpredictable as Bran could be, if not more so.

It was Samuel who broke the silence. “Da,” He began, “We've known that there's been something wrong since before Leah died. Something in all the pack magic. If the witch has somehow found a way to come back, there's no telling what could happen. We can't ignore something like _this._ ”

“I'm aware, Samuel.” Bran spoke evenly, but there was a light warning in his words.

Samuel continued. “If there's anything coming back from the dead, I know a few people who could have some information. I think I should drop a line, just in case.”

“...alright.” Bran didn't move from his spot. “Check with your contacts. Keep in touch.”

Samuel clapped Charles on the shoulder; Charles had never met their grandmother, as he was born long after she'd become dust. Samuel wanted to keep it that way.

He kissed Anna’s cheek and left. Anna stopped rubbing her wrists. “What do you want me to do?” She asked.

“Keep the pack calm and _together._ Pay attention to everyone best you can. If you think something is wrong with someone, help them - but tell me first.” Bran said. “Please.”

Anna was their omega. If she kept the pack focused on her and themselves, kept their minds from dark thoughts and seclusion, she could protect them with her power from...whatever had affected Daniel.

Anna nodded. “I'll start with Jodie.” Jodie had been close with Daniel. No relationship, but they'd seen each other as a sort of long lost sibling. His death had taken a heavy toll on her.

“I can ask around.” Charles said at last. Bran and Anna both knew he wasn't talking about asking anyone normal. “If something dark is coming or has come, something will whisper of it.”

He and Anna left. Bran stayed in front of his fire.

 _‘The witch is dead.’_ He reminded himself. He'd torn her to pieces himself, tasted her blood in his mouth and ripped her flesh and bones apart. She'd been dead for a very long time.

He'd be damned if she didn't stay that way. 

* * *

Jodie ignored Morgan at dinner. She cooked the meal, set out plates, stacked hers high, and vanished into her room.

Morgan ate in the kitchen. She didn't take any sort of offense. Jodie was taking this friend's death hard. They'd obviously been close, more so than she’d let on in the beginning. She needed her space, and Morgan was more than willing to give it. So she put the food away and cleaned the kitchen, made sure her door was bolted shut, and went to bed.

In her dreams she was frowning in front of a fire. She was concerned. Worried about the state of the pack with the passing of one of her wolves, worried about Asil and his state of mind, worried about the disturbing news that Anna had brought her of Daniel asking about her witch mother before his death, because there was no other witch of the Cornick name who collected werewolves.

She found herself worried about Morgan. The girl was young, naive, and vulnerable. She cared about her, more than she’d like. She couldn’t afford to love another after the tragedy of her previous two mates-

Morgan woke with a starved gasp. Her head spun and her stomach churned. She felt disoriented, out of place. Her hands were disgustingly clammy and she felt sweat beading down her back and dripping from her forehead.

That had been... _awful._ She felt absolutely disturbed by whatever that dream had been. Cringing, she threw the sheets off and slid off the bed, but her knees felt like jelly and she ended up just laying on the floor, arms around herself, trying to breathe normally. She felt wrong, so so _wrong._

* * *

Morgan didn’t sleep for the rest of the night. When her alarm went off at around eight, she picked herself up off the floor - still clammy, but less awful - and put herself in the shower. The hot water helped.

When she finally came out, she saw the Jodie's door was closed. There was no breakfast made, something Jodie always prided herself in doing. Morgan made herself some eggs and toast, paused, then made a few more and took it to Jodie's door.

Jodie was laying in bed still, but it was obvious she was awake because her hair had been brushed and her bed sheets were mostly smoothed. Morgan placed the plate of eggs and toast next to her bed on the nightstand. “I’ll leave the house so you can have space for about two or three days, as long as you promise me you’ll eat at least a bowl of cereal for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.” Morgan demanded, leaning forward.

Jodie cracked an eye open. “I’m not inadequate.” She said, her voice weak. “Where do you plan on going?”

“Bran has a couch. I’m sure he won’t mind.” Morgan said casually. “You have a minimum of two days to lay around and do nothing, but when I come back you’re going to come out and eat with me.”

“Look at you, giving orders…” Jodie looked like she was vaguely bothered by that, frowning. Then she buried her head in her pillows. “I promise to eat. You can use my car.”

Morgan stood. “Brush your teeth too. Dental hygiene is important. And eat these before they get cold.”

Jodie made a noncommittal noise and squeezed her pillow tighter. Morgan took her leave, gently closing the door. She heard a meek “thank you” through the crack, and smiled.

Morgan returned to the kitchen to clean up and worked up the courage to call Bran. It was probably (definitely) a little audacious to assume Bran would just let her occupy his living space. But he was her...would boyfriend be an appropriate term? They had dinner dates, in his house, but boyfriend felt...childish.

She pushed the thought from her mind and called before she could second guess herself further. He answered on the second ring. “Hello, Morgan.”

“I have a favor to ask.” She burst, cursing herself for rushing. He paused. “And what would that favor be?”

She hated how she couldn’t tell what he was feeling when he spoke. “Jodie’s really torn up over...what happened. I told her I’d give her a few days to herself as long as she promised to eat and brush her teeth.”

“You deliberately included brushing her teeth?” He chuckled. Morgan leaned on the counter. “Dental hygiene is important.” She said firmly. “I told her I’d get out of the house for like two or three days, and I was wondering if I could crash on your couch for those few days.” She squeezed her eyes shut and crossed her fingers, biting her lip.

“I would think the guest room would be more comfortable than the couch.” He said coolly. “Perhaps you would prefer to use that?”

“I - uh - I mean if you’re alright with it. Jodie’s loaning me the car so I ” She got out, feeling a little relaxed. “Of course, Morgan. You can come over any time you please.”

“Thank you.” She sagged a little. “I promise I won’t be too much trouble.”

“You’re no trouble at all, my dear.”

When they hung up, she finished the kitchen and went to pack a few changes of clothing in her duffel bag and fetched her toiletries. She went back for a pair of jeans, stuffing them into her bag before going to close the drawer.

The red ribbons were still there, but it looked like there were less. Morgan felt a chill run up her spine, covered them with another pair of pants, and left. She didn’t want to think about red ribbons or dreams at the moment.

Out on the porch sat Daniel the ghost, the red ribbons still wrapped around his ankles. He leaned against the rail, watching her head towards Jodie’s truck. “She’s so sad.” He whispered.

“She’s mourning.” Morgan said gently, throwing her duffel in the passenger seat. He looked at her with a heartbroken expression, before disappearing. Morgan started the truck, rolled out of the driveway, and tried to pretend that seeing his face didn’t break her heart.

Bran welcomed her at the door to his house with warm arms and a kiss. It helped.


	7. Chapter 7

Anna was surprised to see Jodie's truck when she pulled up to Bran's house, and even more surprised to find it was Morgan's scent that lingered in the doorway.

Bran was in his study. "She spent the night?" Anna asked, eyebrows raised. Bran nodded absently as he continued to file through pages and pages paperwork. "The past two. In one of the guest rooms." He said. "She's giving Jodie space to mourn."

"That's sweet of her." Anna glanced out the window and saw Morgan in the yard, dressed in bike shorts and a tank top, performing rather impressive stretches in the grass. "I'm surprised with you. You're usually one to take opportunities like this."

"It doesn't take much to see she's not ready yet. She's getting there," he glanced up at Anna, "but not yet."

"Hmm." Anna clasped her hands behind her back. "Most of the pack is alright, they're just a little skittish. They understand what happened, they're just upset. Danny was well liked."

"Yes. They aren't angry with Asil?"

"A few are." She admitted. "But they're mostly upset because Asil wasn't very close with Danny. They wished his father had been the one to help him."

Bran sat back in his chair with a sigh. "That's fine, as long as they understand that had we the chance, Daniel's father would have been there in the end." He said. "This will pass soon, then. You checked on Jodie as well, yes?"

"This has hit her hard. I stopped by yesterday and she hadn't gotten up to much else other than eat and brush her teeth." Anna explained. "She said she just needs time. I want to keep an eye on her. She seemed more than a little off, even for being so sad."

Bran nodded. "You do what you must to keep her. I won't have her following Daniel. This pack has seen enough of death in the past year, especially with the Changes around the corner."

Anna tilted her head. "You're aware that a few feel we should post one this year's group for the next?"

"I'm aware." Bran neatly stacked some papers and tucked them into a folder. "While I understand, I don't care. We won't slight those who have earned their right to try the Change despite the number of deaths we have faced in the year. They should know by now. It comes with the territory."

Anna sighed. "I figured you'd say that."

He eyed the omega. "You disagree?"

She smiled, unfazed. "Of course not. I just know you well enough now that sometime, you're easy to predict."

Bran laughed through his nose, unwilling to give her much more encouragement than that. She waved her hand. "I was just checking in. I'm going to go spend time with Jodie. Tell Morgan I say hi." She left with a smile, and Bran, as always, found himself missing her presence.

He glanced out the window. Morgan had moved on from stretching and was now practicing some sort of routine, with flips and tumbles and bends that left Bran staring; abruptly, he turned back to his paperwork. The summit of his Alphas was soon, and he had to make sure everything was in order. He considered leaving Charles behind, to have him continue to look into the matter with...the witch, but quickly decided against it. He always took Charles. If he changed that now, the Alphas would sense something was wrong. As it was, at least Adam and Everett would know something was wrong. He'd rather not have the Alphas making their packs jumpy until they knew what the immediate threat was.

He heard Morgan swear outside, then the open the back door and the sink water run. Curious, he got up and peered through the kitchen doorway.

Morgan was seated on the countertop, stretching her left leg out with a wet paper towel wrapped around it. She rolled her foot here and there, flexing, and winced briefly.

"Hurt yourself?" Bran asked casually, startling her. She flushed. "Sorry about my butt on the counter - I landed wrong and jarred my ankle."

"Did you sprain it?" He asked, walking forward and wrapping his fingers around her ankle before she could protest. She tried to swallow her blush as he prodded her ankle tenderly. "No, it's just been tweaked. I would've have been a lot louder if it was sprained." She said.

He smiled, patting her foot gently. "Well, that's good. You've been injured enough for a long while as far as I'm concerned." He slid his hand up her leg and placed his other hand over the fresh scar on her right thigh. She shivered. "I've had worse injuries. One time I threw my back out on the high bars. My coach threw up because she was terrified I'd paralyzed myself or something."

"Hm." Bran leaned against the counter, ending up between her legs. His hands slid up to her hips, inciting more shivers. "How about you don't tell of the many injuries you've procured through time?" He suggested.

"Then what _should_ I do?" She was toeing the line there, and Bran knew it. Her knees squeezed ever so slightly against his sides and she leaned forward, inviting him in.

Bran kissed her until she was out of breath and clinging to him for dear life. Then when she had the slightest breath regained, he stole it from her again. And just when he thought he'd had her-

"Da."

Morgan let out a squeak, suddenly pulling into herself and hiding her scarlet face in Bran's shoulder. Bran, hands peeking under her shirt, let out a sigh.

"It's urgent." Charles stood in the doorway, but his eyes were averted. Morgan slid out of Bran's hand. "I'll,uh-" her voice was an octave higher than usual from the embarrassment, "-I'm going to go shower." She scrambled out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

Bran leaned on the counter; it almost - _almost_ \- made him angry to see her flee him so readily. "Your timing is impeccable." He growled. Charles kept his eyes averted. "I believe there's a spirit haunting the town."

Bran turned and frowned at his son. "What has led you to this conclusion?" He asked, carefully.

Charles had his hands clasped behind his back. "I have been sensing something. The pack's been uneasy, but because Anna has been tending to them all they've been able to ignore it. But there's something there and I suspect it's a ghost."

Bran drummed his fingers on the counter; the shower was running upstairs. "Do you think you can deal with it yourself?" He asked. His son had many talents, that he himself didn't know the full extent of.

Charles faltered. "I don't think so. I don't deal with ghosts."

Bran closed his eyes. That presented a problem.

"Mercedes might be able to help. She deals with the ghosts of the passed quite often where she is. This shouldn't be too different from her area."

"Mercy seems to drag trouble with her." Bran muttered, a small smile. "And this time we bring her to the trouble. Call her. See what she can do."

Charles nodded, turning to leave. Bran added on one more thing. "Next time, knock on the door if I'm busy." He tacked on, tone light but a serious warning in there.

Charles gave an almost imperceptible smile as he left. "Of course, da." If Bran didn't know better, he'd think his son was teasing him. "Good luck."

Bran inhaled through his nose and exhaled through his lips. Almost. Almost.

* * *

Morgan practically tripped on her way up the stairs, the slight sting in her ankle forgotten.

She hadn't been kissed like that in... _ever._ Sure, she'd had kisses. Sure, she'd kissed Bran before. But _that…_

She almost forgot to strip her clothes off when she all but threw herself in the shower, blasting the water on cold. The shock of it stifled her furious blushing and extinguished the flame that stoked low in her belly. She closed her eyes, taking a deep, deep breath.

It had been amazing.

Sure, it wasn't what they described in the books or the movies. There weren't any stars, weren't any bells ringing for miles and miles. There hadn't been birds singing or angels dropping wreaths of flowers on them. But when she'd closed her eyes, she'd seen an explosion of brilliant colors. Her scalp tingled and every inch of skin felt warm. She loved the sensation.

She'd never had anyone make her feel this way. In high school, all the girls always talked about being in love; she'd been the most cynical of that, always under the impression it wasn't real love.

Morgan paused, conditioner dripping from her fingers and onto the shower floor. No, no. She couldn't say she was in love. She cared about Bran, quite a bit. She loved him dearly, but she didn't know about being _in_ love. She would…

She pushed the thoughts away and finished washing her hair. For now, she wouldn't worry about that. She'd address things like gooey, mushy emotions later on.

When she'd finished her shower and dried off and dressed in a pair of sweats and a tee shirt , she sat on the bed and quickly french braided her hair. It touched her thighs now, tickling almost to the back of her knees. Her mother always nagged her about cutting it, but Morgan felt like it would be almost wrong to cut her hair. Like she was only supposed to cut it in some sort of special situation.

There was a knock at the door. Bran leaned in the doorway, casually watching her tie off the braid. "Well, I've got good news and bad news." He said.

"Oh boy." She crossed her legs on the bed, waiting patiently.

"Bad news is, Jodie still isn't doing so well. It might be best you steer clear of her for a little while longer." Bran explained. "Good news, you get to stay here longer than expected."

"Oh, that _is_ good news," she smiled, then faltered "but Jodie is...is she going to be alright?"

Bran paused, considering his answer. She wondered if he was considering how much to tell her. Then he said, "The pack will need to keep close watch on her. Anna will be staying with her, more than likely. She is an omega, and will have the greatest ability out of all of us to help her heal."

Morgan frowned, crossing her legs on the bed. "What's an omega?" She asked.

Bran whisked into the room and lounged on the bed next to her. She turned to face him, smiling. "An omega is something outside conventional pack magic and rules. They are an individual unit in an entire pack, and they will ensure that everyone in their pack is happy and healthy and safe. They are like an Alpha in their need to protect their pack, but they lack the violence and urge to battle for dominance." He explained.

"Are they like a brood mother, or something?" Morgan quipped.

"In some sense, yes. You know what purpose a submissive serves in a pack, yes?" She nodded. He continued. "An omega serves the same purpose, but their role is slightly more vital. In our Anna's case, she can make anyone and everyone in the room calm and serene. I'm sure you've noticed how easy it is to talk to her or just how relaxing it is to be around her; with all the madness that can come with being a werewolf, Anna has the ability to bring peace to the members of our pack and save them from the hope is she keeps Jodie's grief from clouding her judgement."

He said it so casually but Morgan felt a shiver run up her spine. She knew the implication that lingered in air there, and it left a sour taste in her mouth. She didn't want to think about that.

"Anna is very good at helping our pack." Bran must have sensed her slight fear because he reached over and his hand brushed her arm. "Jodie will be fine."

"OK." She'd trust him and Anna. "Well, that's one way to set a mood." She teased.

Bran smiled and grabbed her arm, pulling her into his lap. "Care to remind me where we left off before we were interrupted?" He said against her shoulder, brushing her braid out of the way. She wrapped her arms around him, giggling.

* * *

Two days later, when Mercy arrived at Bran's door with Charles, she was surprised to find Morgan curled on the couch, reading a book form Bran's study.

"What, did you move in already?" Mercy teased, pulling her backpack off her shoulder. Morgan swallowed her blush. "I'm crashing for a few days. Jodie needs some space after the funeral."

Mercy frowned and glanced at Charles - who showed no outward , but smoothed her features when Bran came down. "Already asking me for help? I'm flattered."

"You're here, so I'm assuming you _can_ help." Bran said patiently.

Morgan sensed the coming of werewolf business and made a quick retreat upstairs. Mercy glanced as she left. "Where's the ghost been active?"

"Every pack member in town has reported activity of some sort. There doesn't seem to be any sort of focused area." Charles said. "Although I can tell you that it seems to be avoiding Anna's presence. Wherever she has been it avoids for quite a while."

Mercy planted a firm hand on her hip. "Right. Wait for it to pop up. I can do that." Mercy said. "Don't you have to leave for the annual summit, like, tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow night." Bran rocked back on his heels once. "Morgan will be staying here with you. Keep an eye on her for me?"

"Of course."

"Anna will work closely with you while you are in town, but she is going to be tending to Jodie. Try not to cause any trouble in my town. Take the middle guest room upstairs." Bran smiled, and returned to his study.

"Let me know if you need anything before you leave." Charles said, and left. Mercy went upstairs and dumped her bag in the middle guest room.

"So you're staying?" Morgan leaned in the doorway, still holding the book in her hands. "For how long?"

"As long as it takes." Mercy said casually, unpacking her toiletries and setting them atop the dresser for easy reach. "You seen any ghosts in town?" She asked jokingly, glancing at Morgan over her shoulder.

Morgan had her lips pursed, eyes down. Mercy spun around. "You've seen one?" She half demanded, half asked. "Where?"

"I haven't been able to see ghosts since I turned ten. All the kids in New Orleans can see ghosts at one point." Morgan said softly. "I almost forgot how weird it was. He was at the funeral. It was his own funeral, Daniel."

Mercy paused. "Did you tell Bran?"

Morgan shook her head, rubbing her arm. "I'm still afraid to tell him." She was whispering now, afraid he'd hear. Mercy considered the house's size for a moment. "You shouldn't be." She said at last. "He'd understand."

"My mom's previous husband used to call me crazy." Morgan shifted almost uncomfortably. "And when we lived in Florida for a little while I got teased by students and teachers."

"I understand. I do, really." Mercy smiled reassuringly. "So, have you seen him anywhere else other than the funeral?"

Morgan shook her head. "He was really weird, just staring and babbling when he realized I could see him. I think he might be lingering around Jodie, or his brother and dad. He was...watching them, at the funeral."

"Do you think he knows he's dead?" Mercy wore a frown; she couldn't smell any sort of lies, but Morgan wasn't telling the whole truth. Daniel must have said something specific to her, but she either was unwilling to share or to scared to do so with Bran in the house. Morgan nodded. "Are you going to help him?"

"If I can."

"Good." Morgan glanced at the bag on the bed. "I'll let you get settled, then." She smiled and spun on her heel, returning to her own occupied guest room. Mercy watched her close the door.

She wondered if Bran had deliberately put her in Leah's old room, or if Morgan had deliberately chosen the room farthest from Bran's room.

* * *

Bran and Charles left the next day. Morgan and Mercy saw Bran off at the door. "Tell Adam I'm burning the place to the ground with every passing second." Mercy teased. Bran kissed her forehead. "While I appreciate the humor, I'd like to see this place still in one piece upon my return." He said.

Morgan smiled, but she was obviously a little upset about the departure. "Would saying have fun be in poor taste?" She asked, kissing him. He chuckled. "Of course not. Try not to let Mercy drag you into trouble."

"I'll try, but no promises." She said, rocking on her toes. "I'll see you when you get back."

Then he left, off to pick up Charles and head to the air strip. When the humvee was long out of sight, Mercy turned to Morgan. "What did Daniel really say to you at the funeral? And where else did you actually see him? I know you were afraid of Bran overhearing."

"He told me to ask about Carter Wallace and what followed after his death." Morgan didn't even hesitate, still watching the road. "He was outside Jodie's house when I left and I've seen him in the backyard. He just sits and watches the trees."

"Carter Wallace…?" Mercy frowned. "That's not good. I'm pretty sure a rogue werewolf or something appeared in the mountains right after...we'd have to ask Anna. She and Charles were the ones to deal with it."

"Anna's going to stop by for dinner tonight." Morgan crossed her arms. "We can talk to her then."

"Morgan," Mercy blocked her from walking inside, frowning down at her, "you can't keep secrets from Bran. It will only cause problems in the end."

Morgan looked up at her, meeting her eye and regarding her carefully for a moment. Mercy felt the slightest of Bran's dominance steam from Morgan's skin, as if she could lean on the bond without realizing its existence even. At last, she spoke. "Something's been putting everyone off, and I don't think it's just the ghost. I didn't want to give him something more to be stressed about. Not until after he got back from this meeting."

"Be careful." Mercy warned. "You're a sweet girl, but the game you're peeking into is dangerous and way over your head. And I don't mean that to insult you."

Morgan clasped her hands behind her back and rocked on her heels. "I know. I'll be careful."

Mercy let her inside, and Morgan made a beeline for the kitchen. Anna would be by soon, and Mercy wanted to discuss more than just the ghost with her. She liked Morgan, the girl was sweet but bold and reminded her of herself - minus the ability to shift into a coyote form. Mercy was concerned about her relationship with Bran.

Bran couldn't love again, and Mercy didn't want to see Morgan ending up like Leah. She wouldn't want that on anyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just started working the overnight shift, so updates might be a little slow.


	8. Chapter 8

“I must admit, I don't often find myself in the company of others anymore.”

They were sitting on a blanket, rolled out on the shore of a river. The mystery woman was garbed in buckskin and beads, and was working on a blanket of sorts, made of deer hide and stitched with dyed leathers and beads. Morgana was wearing a long a dark green gown that hung off her shoulders daringly, writing in a large, leather bound book, and though her quill had no ink to dip in, the words came out bold and black. “Did you do this, or did I do it?” She asked absently, finishing a paragraph and beginning to sketch a diagram out.

“It might not have even been us. A connection through a third person.” The woman was absolutely beautiful, with her dark braids and dark eyes, and a smile that made Morgan feel lighter. “In any case, my name is Morgana. It's lovely to meet you.”

“You may call me Blue Jay Woman.” She would not offer the formal greeting, because she already felt acquainted with the fair skinned woman.

Morgana turned to a new page. “That blanket is lovely. Is it for your child?”

Blue Jay Woman inclined her head in a nod. “Though I fear he has long since not had need for it.” She smiled sadly. “My son has long since grown. Still, it is a gift I want him to have.”

“A gift from one’s mother is all anyone could ask for.” Morgan gave a little sigh at the thought. Blue Jay Woman smiled at her. “You are writing a very large book.”

“Would you laugh if I said I have no idea what I’m writing? Actually, this book is finished-” Morgan frowned at the filled pages and closed the book, “-sorry if this seems cryptic. I’m not Awake.”

“So I have heard.” Blue Jay Woman set down her blanket. “You have many friends.”

“That’s news to me.” Morgan laughed.

“You will remember them one day. That’s not important right now.” Blue Jay Woman wore a beautifully serious expression. “Now I know why we’re here. Perhaps it was my fault.”

“Oh?” Morgan traced the binding of her book. Blue Jay Woman continued. “You are going to help us. That’s why I am here.”

“I can’t help anyone if I can’t help myself.” Morgan said sadly. “I’m useless to you at the moment.”

“Not entirely.” Blue Jay Woman smiled. “Morgana, we’ve sent to you-”

Morgan’s eyes opened abruptly. She was lying in the bed at Bran’s house but-

It was almost unbearably hot in the room. She sat up, sweating, and threw the blankets off, swinging her legs over the bed and standing. She switched on the ceiling fan and cracked open the window, but it was still inexplicably hot in there.

She didn’t have the energy to go downstairs and adjust the thermostat - it was barely three in the morning - so she stripped out of her pajamas and laid on top of the blankets in her underwear, pulling her braid up around her head to expose her neck. The fan and window helped, but it was still warm in the room and she disliked not being able to cover herself with a blanket. It was comforting, and feeling exposed just made her skin crawl. 

She wondered who Blue Jay Woman was. Maybe she could ask Mercy or Anna if they knew one later on.

Bran and Charles had only been gone a day. Anna and Samuel both had stopped by for dinner, and they'd had little to nothing to help Mercy on her quest for Daniel’s ghost. Morgan was helpful as she could be, going as far to promise she'd go around the town with Mercy to help spot Daniel. 

Morgan seemed a little off-put by the whole business with Daniel, but she seemed to put her discomfort aside in willingness to help. Mercy was grateful, honestly. She didn’t often have help with these matters and it was almost comforting to have someone else who could see spirits around. 

They didn’t have to even leave the house, as it turned out. Mercy had just finished cleaning up after breakfast when she heard Morgan shriek from the backyard, where she had been doing her stretches. Mercy looked through window and saw Daniel standing over Morgan, and was out in the yard in seconds, her walking stick in hand.

“-scare someone like that!” Morgan was scolding him from her sprawled position on the ground. “You’re going to end up giving me an aneurysm!”

“You have to go.” He looked at Mercy with a look of panic. “She's found the son. You have to go.”

“Who?” Mercy demanded, eyeing the red ribbons on his ankles. He shook his head, and whispered. “Run.”

He vanished. Morgan scrambled to her feet; her sports bra and bike shorts had dirt stains on them now. “What the  _ fuck _ is he telling us to run for?” She demanded, looking at Mercy with wide, frightened eyes. Mercy pursed her lips. She scanned the treeline, listening for anything approaching. The hairs on her neck were standing.

There was a howl in the distance. It came from the town.

Morgan was beyond alarmed. “That's bad, right? It's like, ten in the morning.”

“Get upstairs.” Mercy ordered. “But don't run.”

Morgan did as she was told, walking as normally as she could inside and scampering up the stairs to her room. She threw on a tee shirt and tennis shoes, unwilling to be caught with her pants down should the need to run for real arise.

Downstairs, Mercy was already back inside and locked all the doors. She didn't recognize who howled, but she knew there was a fight in the town somewhere, and it was a bad one. She quickly went to her own room and fished the shoulder holster and SIG with the silver loaded magazine from her bag and prepared for the worst.

“It's that bad.” Morgan wrung her hands nervously. The fact that Mercy had a gun strapped to her meant bad business. “I tried to call Anna. It went to voicemail.”

“She’ll be busy. She’s inadvertently running the show with Bran and Charles gone. If there's trouble, she's already there.” Mercy explained, then paused. “Did you try calling Samuel?”’

“I don’t have his number.”

“Then nevermind.” Mercy shoved her own phone into her back pocket. “My car is outside. Stick close to me.” She took hold of Morgan’s wrist just in case.

There was nothing outside, but there was growling in the distance and Mercy's instincts kicked into overdrive as she threw the car into reverse as soon as Morgan was in her seat. The girl barely had time to close the door before they were peeling out of the driveway and-

A massive wolf, barrel shaped and splashed with brown and gray, came charging from the woods and slipped around the corner of the house right as Mercy peeled off down the road.

Mercy swore. Morgan went deathly silent, eyes on the rear view mirror; she looked sickly pale, several shades lighter than the olive tone she usually had. She held onto the door and her seat so hard her hands were both entirely white.

“Hang on.” Mercy could have outrun the wolf much easier on four feet, and while the chance that the wolf would ignore the chase of a coyote for the quivering and easy human girl were slim, she didn't want to take  _ any  _ chances. So she slammed on the gas and they went flying down the road, armed with a gun and the stick across Morgan's lap.

The wolf didn't catch up right away. It seemed content to gradually reach the car, the thrill of the chase making it more willing to taunt it's prey then kill it immediately. Mercy tore down the road, hoping to either catch someone to help or find the wolf a distraction. Morgan didn’t scream, which was helping her focus, but the thick scent of her fear was overpowering-

“Tree!!” Morgan cried, pointing down the road.

A massive tree had fallen in the road right next to the pull up to the church, just ahead of them. Mercy swerved into the parking lot to avoid it. The car skittered down the lot, slamming into the side of the church and narrowly avoiding the trio of battling wolves. The airbags slammed both of them against the seats; Mercy heard the windows in the doors shatter. 

Their pursuer didn’t stop, coming right through the back window with a horrendous sound, jaws snapping and massive paws scrambling for purchase. Mercy swung a leg across the seats, giving Morgan a hard  _ shove _ against the door, encouraging her to get out. Morgan complied with the unspoken command in seconds, falling hands and knees into broken glass and rubble from the wall and scampering away from the car.

Mercy landed on her rear and drew the SIG, unloading two rounds into the wolf’s neck before standing and backing away. The wolf made a horrid, gruesome sound, wet and broken by the silver in its throat. To mercy’s horror, the wolf still moved for Morgan’s side of the car, almost unaffected by the bullets. She shot one into its side and another into its hind leg right as it leapt from the car-

-the battlings wolves rolled towards the car, all three making a dent in the bumper - 

\- Morgan bashed Mercy’s walking stick into the jaws of the attacking wolf, and everything went very still.

There was a burst of silvery light, blasting Mercy and the two werewolves back from the car. The third wolf and the pursuer were wrapped in something like a net, the threads made of pulsing light and set deep into their skin. Where Morgan had hit the wolf, the mesh was burned and withering away. Mercy stared; she couldn’t move. The other two werewolves - one was Samuel, the other slightly smaller with near-black fur - snarled snapped their jaws, but their feet were frozen in place. 

Morgan shrieked, dropping the stick as it burned her hands. The light-made-mesh burned away, and both wolves collapsed in a heap where they stood. The silver bullets popped from the holes they’d entered through, clattering against the side of the car. 

No one dared to move for a few moments. It wasn’t until Morgan made a sort of injured whining noise that Samuel and his ally snapped forward, putting themselves between her and the two bloody strangers. Mercy scrambled around the front of the car, jumping over the hood and grabbing Morgan by the shoulders. She tugged her away right as the flesh of the brown and gray wolf who’d been chasing them shifted, and the bones moved in the tell-tale sign of the change.

The other wolf began to change as well. Samuel and his ally didn’t move, confused, heads low and teeth ready to snap. Morgan looked away, tears streaking down her face. “My head-” She whined, leaning heavily on Mercy with her badly burned palms. 

The shift took over twenty minutes to finish. By the time they’d done, three cars came tearing into the lot and pack members poured in, Anna at the front with a rifle at hand. “Is everyone OK?” She asked, before faltering. The two naked and bloodied men lied in heaps, one half below the trunk of the broken car, the other half hanging from the passenger side. When the last bone slid into place, it was like someone snapped her over the head with a brick; Morgan suddenly collapsed, eyes rolling back and nose bursting with blood.

Mercy barely caught her, carefully supporting her weight. “Well,” she said to Anna, as pack members prepared to capture the mystery werewolves. “I have no idea what’s going on.”

The cages in Bran’s basement were safest, so that’s where the wolves were put.

After their shift the only stirring they made was when they breathed. Samuel, after checking Mercedes and Morgan for their injuries, concluded that they’d wake up in a day or two, maybe sooner. They’d burned through so much energy changing, especially after fighting and chasing a high speed car, and it had exhausted them. Not to mention the magic that had been expelled from their bodies. 

Mercy stayed upstairs with Morgan, Jodie staying with her. Anna and Tag, along with the next few down the pack chain of command after Anna, sat with Samuel and Asil in the living room, and tried to figure out just  _ what  _ the heck was going on. 

“It was like they appeared out of nowhere.” Asil said, a heavy cut across his shoulder still healing. “He just jumped out of the trees and took a chunk out of Samuel’s arm.”

Samuel sat on the couch, arm heavily wrapped and bruising everywhere. “He was acting strange. He seemed to just stand there and wait while Asil changed.” He didn't seem all too pleased with the fact, expression grim. “The scent they carry is strange…”

“They smell like death. Death, blood, and witchcraft.” Asil ground out. “There is something foul afoot here, and those two are just puppets.”

“Do we call Bran?” Anna asked the burning question. The room settled into silence.

There was no doubt Bran had to know before he came home, but there were heavy factors at play in the situation. If they told Bran, he'd react accordingly, probably immediately. He might even send Charles home to investigate. But if he showed any sign of alarm in front of the other Alphas, any mere moment of weakness, there could be chaos. Not to mention they had no idea if one of the Alphas themselves were involved.

But if they didn't tell him, he'd be angry and blindsided when he returned. If something related happened and he was caught unawares, they'd be responsible.

Jodie came downstairs. “Don't tell Bran yet. My brother might be involved.” She said firmly.

Every eye burned through her. Anna and Samuel stood together, but Anna only put herself between the two when he approached her.

Jodie dropped her eyes and showed her throat.

“Derek would go so far to betray my father? Bargain with witches?” Samuel growled, eyes white with the moon. The other wolves in the room backed away; a few struggled to stay standing.

“About three years ago, something happened in him. Something broke. My brother may very well no longer  _ be _ my brother. We haven't spoken until recently, so I wouldn't know if he's struck up with witches.” She spoke softly. Saying it out loud, so soon after Daniel, hurt. “The first he spoke to me in these years was to ask me to take Morgan into my care and find a way to keep her from ever returning. He wanted her out of the way. He said her mother was to be his greatest treasure…that she could help him surpass the Marrok.”

The power that spilled from Samuel’s body slammed everyone but Anna to their knees; even those seated were not spared. “Would Derek have some responsibility in the mate bond between my father and Morgana?” He demanded. Anna blocked his view of Jodie now, but even she could not stifle his wrath.

Jodie panted against the floorboards. “No - that was unforeseen. I haven't even told him about it yet.”

“You have betrayed my father and betrayed this pack. Your punishment will be up to the Marrok, as will your brother’s.” Samuel’s voice carried all the power of the moon and sky. Jodie nodded, eyes closed. She lay very still, knowing one wrong move and not even Anna could save her.

Samuel moved to speak further, but Anna put a hand on his chest and stilled him. “Jodie.” She said gently. “Go home. You will not leave your house until Bran calls for you himself.”

“Yes.” Jodie rose and obediently left. The taste of fear she left behind was tangible.

“So we don't tell Bran until he comes home. What if his bond with the girl has already informed him?” Asil asked.

“Bran since the bond is weak enough as is, the distance will weaken it even further. He might be aware that she is injured, but probably not about our intruders or the chase, much less everything else.” Anna explained softly, still standing square in front of Samuel.

A younger pack member came from the basement. “They're awake.” He sounded a little...disturbed. The boy, Eren, was young, barely three years a wolf. But he was loyal to a fault and trusted Bran and the pack almost naively. Anna was glad he had such and level head.

Samuel took a deep breath.

“Have they said anything else?” Anna asked calmly. The omega was not oblivious to the fierce tension in the air, with wolves still knees to the ground and Samuel’s hands trembling. But she chose very wisely to ignore it, to distract from it.

“The younger just said he was sorry. They haven't said a single word otherwise. They just stare at the walls.” The wolf shifted uncomfortably. “There's something just...not right about him. Both of them.” He said.

Anna smiled. “Don't worry. I will go talk to them. You stay here and help everyone collect themselves.” Anna looked up at Samuel. “You need to go calm yourself. Outside the house.” She said sternly. She took Samuel’s arm un-offered, leading him outside before he could reply. He followed the omega obediently, eyes closed.

She drifted back through the house to the basement, nodding to the wolves in the living room. Sage finally cleared her throat, a few minutes after they left. “Well, we’re neck deep this time, darlings.”

\--

“I apologize.”

Morgana paused. She stood knee-deep in the river, her long gown bundled up and clenched in her arms as she wove her fingers through the water.

“What are you sorry for?” Morgana glanced at Blue Jay Woman, who sat up on the rocks with her bare feet dipped in the water. The blanket and book lay abandoned on the dry rocks, this time nestled next a sword, sheath and all completely wrapped in worn, brown leather. 

Blue Jay Woman skipped a rock down the river. “We sent them, and you were hurt because of our brash choice.” She sighed. “We should have worked with them longer, worn down the magic more.”

“I’m...I don’t really know what you’re talking about?” Morgana dipped her hand into the water and picked up a smooth, white stone, the size of her palm. 

“It’s alright.” Blue Jay Woman skipped another stone. “Thankfully your injuries  were not too severe. At least, with what you’ve done, we can help the others better. She is weakened, and will not be able to control the rest as easily.” 

“You’re not making much sense.” Morgana hesitated, suddenly dropping her skirt and letting the rich fabric soak in the river water. “The wolves. You helped them find me.”

“You can help us all.” Blue Jay Woman flicked water with her toes. “I hope you’re not upset with us. We’ve harmed you and yours.”

Morgana looked down at her hands. Her palms were red, both burned and sliced from little shards of glass embedded in her hands. Her knees stung, and blood streamed in thin wisps with the flow of the river water. 

“I’ll be fine.” Morgana dipped her hands into the icy water, relishing in the relief the cold gave her. “They’ll be fine, too.”

“The two we sent, we sent the weakest and the strongest. They’ve known the witch the longest and were the first two she put under her control.” Blue Jay Woman leaned on her knees. “They will be able to give you much needed information to prepare.”

Morgana’s gown was soaked up to her waist now. She began to wade towards the shore. “Prepare...for what, exactly?” She frowned at the wrapped blade. Blue Jay Woman glanced at it over her shoulder.

“For what is coming.”

The river suddenly surged. The water rushed against Morgana’s legs, pushing and shoving at her. Icy waters roared over the rocks.

“The witch sensed what you did. There are traces of her magic stuck to you, like a spider web.” Blue Jay Woman quickly stood.

“Gross.” Morgana stumbled a little from the force of the water, dangerously close to being swept off. “This is the witch?”

“Yes. I suppose she will try to take you as she has the rest of us.” Blue Jay Woman scooped up the blanket for her son. “Forgive me. I cannot stay with her presence here. I wish I could help you fight her.”

Morgana snorted. “I promise, a witch poses no threat to one like  _ me. _ Go. Take care.”

Blue Jay Woman disappeared. The water surged up the shore, and bashed against Morgana’s side almost viciously. It wanted to take her, to drown her.

“Don't insult me.” Morgana said plainly, and snapped her fingers. Morgan woke with a start.

“Easy there, kiddo.” Mercy put a comforting hand on her shoulder, keeping her from lurching upright. “We’re back at Bran's house. You're safe.”

Morgan's head throbbed almost unbearably. Her eyes watered and it sounded like blood rushed to fill her ears. “Whoa, whoa-” Mercy lunged for the wastebasket by the door, barely getting it under Morgan’s chin right as she vomited. 

She retched out a ridiculous amount of watery bile, body trembling with the force of it. Mercy held her hair back while the poor girl clung to the bin until she was spent.

“Christ.” Morgan spat. “I feel like I survived a plane crash.”

“You may as well have. Remember what happened?” Mercy didn't stop Morgan from standing and taking the bin to the bathroom to clean up. She followed, watching the girl carefully.

“You crashed a car into a church. Nice.” Morgan rinsed out her mouth. “Oh, a werewolf tried to eat out faces too, right?”

“So you do remember. You remember hitting it with a magical Fae walking stick?”

Morgan paused, looking down at her hands. They were bandaged, but her whole body felt numb anyways. “It burned me.”

“I saw, which is weird. It doesn't normally do that.” Mercy crossed her arms, leaning on the door frame. “The last time it ever got aggressive like that was when I used it to kill a vampire and a river demon.”

Morgan leaned on the sink. “Sounds like fun.”

“Try not to touch it until we’re sure it won't bite you again, ok?” Mercy smiled kindly. “Why don't you clean up a bit? When you come downstairs we’re going to feed you and figure out what's going on.” 

Morgan nodded. “Thank you, Mercy.”

Mercy winked, and disappeared downstairs. The throbbing headache was better, but her ears still felt like she was underwater. She remembered a river in her dream, but after Blue Jay Woman left, she couldn't recall anything else, if there even was anything else.

Morgan splashed her face. She'd worry later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm writing an analysis research paper on the Mercy Thompson series itself at the moment. It's going to eat up my time, but in the end it will help me to better characterize and fit my own characters into the story. Fingers crossed for an A!


	9. AUTHOR'S NOTE

So, I have a terrible confession to make.  
I cant finish this story.  
It had been a while since I had read "Hunting Ground", book 2 of the Alpha and Omega series, and I recently bought myself a fresh copy of the whole series.   
I had completely forgotten that there was a set canon of sorts for arthurian legend in the story, and that's just made it so much harder for me to maintain my interest in finishing this story. So I'm not.  
I began a new mercyverse fanfic a few weeks ago. I hop to have it up in the next few days. I'm sorry to those who really like this story, but I will be using the important bits of plot from this story for the new one, so I can't tell you how it would have ended.   
Sorry, again. Thank you for enjoying my work!

-Witchy


End file.
